


Drawing Dead

by APHTrashbin (verfens)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alfred's partially blind, Blindness, Cardverse, Depression, Injury, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Recovery, Sexy Content in the Latest Chapter, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5300669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfens/pseuds/APHTrashbin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you draw dead, its said that you can't possibly win against the odds of your opponent.  And that has to be true- at least, that's what the Rag Card, ex-soldier, ex-prisoner Alfred F. Jones, thinks of himself...and of the new crowned Queen of Spades, and his ex-lover, Arthur Kirkland.  Determined to follow through with his plan to kill Arthur in revenge, and then himself in a desire to end his suffering, Alfred drags himself across Spades in shambles, being half-blind is the least of his current problems.</p><p>Too bad he's not yet noticed the mark of the Spades King newly formed on his own left arm, or realized that the beliefs that he's built his mission on are lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rag Card

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a cool RP i did a while ago...the person stopped replying like over a month ago, so I think its fair game to post my edited version on here!!

The world had changed, and him with it.

Years ago, in the Kingdom of Spades, Alfred F. Jones had been a loyal warrior to the cause of his Kingdom, a trained soldier, general, fighting in the war against Clubs, allied with Diamonds. He had grown up as the son of a poor farmer, just one of many Rag Cards of the Kingdom of Spades, and he had been drafted to serve in the Spades Army under the old King upon his 17th birthday. However, Alfred's strength and skill had quickly caused him to rise up through the ranks and lead the army, even though he had only been 17 then, even though he had only been a Rag Card- useless and weak in the greater picture of the Kingdom of Spades, his mother had told him many, many years ago.  He had thought this classification rather unfair, but he had never argued with it.

Still, many political opponents of the king had thought of Alfred as the obvious choice of a representative for revolution.  He was a Rag Card, representative of the masses of Spades.  They thought more along the lines of the classification being entirely unfair, and deserving of being overthrown.  And though Alfred had never participated in any sort of rebellion, or even spoke of it for fear of being thrown in prison, he was known commonly as someone who was both popularly liked by the people and the army. Alfred himself only offered his support to his people, and his king, as well as the Royal Family. He had never done anything to raise suspicion to himself, except be an object of rumors, and mistakenly took up an unlikely relationship with the young prince.

And the then King of Spades knew that his people liked the young general more than they liked him, and grew concerned for the safety of  _his_  time on the throne, claiming that Alfred would attempt to overthrow the monarchy of Spades, and destroy them.

The King ordered his men imprison Alfred then, and despite how Alfred tried to escape in desperation, the secret service members ended up damaging his face horrifically, and he was rendered almost blind, with his left eye becoming almost useless and his right unable to see, for his glasses were broken against his face.

And Alfred F. Jones, stripped of his sight, his friends and family, and his freedom- was locked away in a prison deep within the mountains of the North of Spades, and in the eternally cold winter, he had wondered for so long why he bothered to live. He had never done anything wrong, and yet here he was- tortured, imprisoned.

And in the 3 years from that time, he had changed.

During his imprisonment, consciousness faded in and out along with his companions- other prisoners, new guards. Experimental torture drugs were injected into his system at random. The Torture, the isolation…the  _drugs_ …they had all beaten him down until he was nothing, nothing but a fragment

In an unfortunate twist of irony, 3 years after Alfred had been imprisoned, 3  _years_  that he had spent tortured, starved, and alone…the king died, and his son was named the Queen, in accordance with his tattoo.

Alfred knew from the first time he was aware enough to hear this information, that this was the time to escape. The guards were talking of it openly around him, having grown complacent with their prisoner. They were waiting for the new Queen of Spades to come make a decision on Alfred's fate.

But first, he would have to be inaugurated.  

The night that the guards left to attend the inauguration of the Queen, Arthur Kirkland of Spades, the guards having underestimating Alfred himself, the young ex-soldier broke out of prison, and with his body dragged down by the weight of his chains he had broken off the floor, he started on his path of blood, following the trail the guards had left unwittingly for the prisoner.

It had taken him 2 days to walk to the palace, and he knew he was ready for revenge.

And so, bedraggled and beaten, the chains that had held him down for years still attached to his body- he had simply broken free of them by breaking them away from the earth they were dug into, and had dragged them with him here- he finally arrived after miles of treading on foot through the snow of the Northern Prison, and miles more of navigating the forests with little eyesight and only his chains for weapons. He had finally made it to the palace.

Though his feeble eyesight betrayed him- as he could only see with his right eye, which in itself was rather damaged- his innate magic told him that this was the castle of Spades, just as it told him that the Queen was unattended, out in the night air that Alfred could barely feel any longer. He had long since stopped caring for the weather.

Alfred had stopped caring about a lot of things, though. He could barely see the bright castle, and the undoubtedly glowing courtyard, the whole place alight with warmth and joy, for the old king was dead, and they had a new Queen in his stead, with a new king shortly to be found. He didn't care that he would be killed for this crime- he didn't care that he would become a true enemy of Spades for such high treason.

It would be worth it to see him die.

The queen was a young man- he had only been 23 when Alfred had been imprisoned at 19. He had grown cruel in the days of Alfred's imprisonment. A familiar taunting voice that had once soothed him-claimed he  _loved him_ \- oh, how it had pained him then. But he had settled since into such utter acceptance, such utter  _hatred_ , that it fueled him, and allowed him to see past the man Alfred had once thought Arthur to be.

Arthur represented everything that Alfred had come to hate about the world- the cruelty of humans, the monarchy of Spades…and himself, as well. His naivety, his willingness to trust people, his love for Arthur, his belief in that the good weren't punished…

However, again, 3 years spent in hell was an experience that was among those things that simply  _changed_  people, and it had changed him.

From a loving, bright, promising soldier, to this monster, barely recognizable as human. It was easier on what remained of his tattered consciousness to believe that he wasn't human any longer. It gave him justice in what he was going to do to Arthur.

And so, he walked towards the castle of Spades, fully intending on getting revenge on the Crown and becoming the enemy of the State they had declared him to be, not even able to see the King's mark that was now well-formed on his own body, well-within the blind spot on his left side, placed neatly on his left forearm.

XXXXX

(excerpt taken from a journal published by the Manifesto of the Beating Hearts, an anti-structured-society organization currently located in Hearts, following the discarding of the General Alfred F. Jones)

Rag cards in society are seen as useless, discardable things! And why is that, what knowledge is that based off of, other than the outdated idea that certain people are simply born with less potential, and so are reserved the lowest jobs of society. Slaves to the Honorable Cards in all but name!

General Alfred F. Jones was a Rag Card, but they hadn't known that when he enlisted sans birth information, and look how he turned out to be one of the most gifted military generals that Spades had ever known. It is almost certain, according to our source among the Jokers, that the man was discarded in order to maintain the status quo of Spades, and Cards. Labelling the Rag Card a traitor was one of the most intelligent decisions the King of Spades has ever made in his entire rule. If a card is a traitor, one will not look further to see how he defied the norm of a Rag Card.

Throughout history, there are undoubtedly others like the noble Alfred F. Jones, Rag Cards that lose the evidence of their origins and become greater than people say they ever could be. It is up to us to find these people, and show the world of Cards precisely how useful Rag Cards can be!

Let us unite and triumph!


	2. Foul Hand

A foul hand, or  _fouled hand_ , is when one must stop in their actions for one reason or another. Used in conjunction with  _tilt_ , it means that the tilted person has failed their "mission," for one reason or another. As it was read in recently recovered letters from the pen name of "King David" during the Great War, " _Experiment (number redacted for protection)_ _has become a foul hand. He must be eliminated before he is discovered."_  It is heavily suspected that "King David" was none other than the recently deceased King of Spades, but this is a rumor popularized in the Kingdom of Clubs, recenly ending a 7 year war with its neighboring Kingdom.

**_(taken from the front page story featured in: Free Press Association of Diamonds, written by senior reporter Laura Peeters AKA "Belgium"_ ** **_)_ **

XXXXX

The night air was cold, but it was hard to notice due to how hollow all of this was. He had been inaugurated, but he was alone on the throne. 3 years of watching his father drive their great nation into the ground- and the first mistake was throwing Alfred Jones in prison for a crime the other hadn't committed, though a slight that Arthur had been just guilty of.

Arthur had never agreed with the decision his father had made in imprisoning the young man as he had. He found it incredibly unfair but despite his protests his father had done what he wanted. After all he hadn't any say in the court itself at the time. Then there was the fact that it caused many of the Spadian soldiers to rebel against the crown for the loss of their great leader, and then caused Spades to lose the war against Clubs- that Spades had started, mind.

And then there was the soft, sorry fact, that if Alfred were here, he'd be happy, smiling and bright and supportive of Arthur as he took the throne. They'd be celebrating the death of Arthur's horrific father. In his deepest, darkest dreams, Alfred had killed the man, and then the Kings tattoo had formed on his arm, and the two were to marry and rule Spades together.

But he hadn't. None of that was reality.

The celebration was as festive as royal parties always were, and though Arthur enjoyed it for a time, he had to excuse himself to the garden. He wasn't looking forward to having to locate the new King; already he was sure there were people trying to fake the mark as always, even though it never worked.

It wasn't realistic to think that Alfred would be the King. Surely, the guards would have noticed the formation. More than that, the process of getting him removed from prison was an irritating affair. The papers kept getting stuck for whatever reason, and he was told they needed to wait.

Alfred had waited long enough to be saved, and that was why he had done what he had. But it was taking too long, it made him wonder if Alfred was dead and they simply hadn't told him yet. His heart ached. Alfred was in there for a lot of reasons, and no small part of it was the fact that Alfred and him…well.

He shook that from his thoughts, stepping out the door and waving off the guard as he walked further into the beautiful, faintly glowing garden in the courtyard. It would be fine; he was only in the garden after all. What could go wrong? He gave a sigh of relief once he knew he was alone, the cold night air wasn't met with anything vicious, no immediate threat and no advisor harrowing him about the peace talks with Clubs. It was a relief to have a moment to breathe and he sighed, leaning on one of the trees a short ways from the patio. He watched the moon, smiling faintly. "Can't say I'm looking forward to going back inside..." He said to himself, the nip being a reminder that he was alive and free, no matter how lonely it was, how hollow he felt because he was alone.

Alfred had been imprisoned because of Arthur- because they had been together, and the late King of Spades was nothing if not paranoid, and since he couldn't just disown the only heir to the throne, he settled for stealing the one thing Arthur had ever truly come to love from him.

And that was why Arthur had poisoned his father, leaving him to suffocate and die.

XXXXX

Alfred's search ended when he finally spotted the Queen with his one "good" eye.

Metal chains that had for so long bound him to the cold earth now clanked loudly against each other and the forest around him, but he was only focused on one goal. Alfred would be glad to die- only once he had killed the son of the bastard who had destroyed him.

The man now relied on the fighting skills he had been extraordinarily gifted with when he had lived  _before_. He had also been bright, and kind, and forgiving, and had done nothing wrong. But…he wasn't the man from  _before_.

And the one he had come to end was just barely older than the human he had once been, and despite the broken calls from his frayed consciousness that reminded him of times long past…. he embodied all that Alfred had come to hate about Spades- that the royalty could do whatever they wanted, from taking more food than they could ever possibly eat while people starved, kill anyone without consequences...

He  _knew_  that this Queen,  _Arthur_ , hadn't given him a second of thought- about letting him go. He was common fodder- along with any other of the political prisoners that his father had threatened, tortured or killed.

However, the tables had turned on the crown. Now, he was prepared in his mind, body in soul. He had to kill Arthur, and then he would die, either by his own hand- or by the guards, should they catch him after he killed the queen. It was fine with him. He had no soul left to give, no pain left to feel- only the sweet release of death awaiting him, emptiness would be better than his current state of being.

Arthur startled when he heard the sound of chains on the ground nearby. Pushing off the tree he had been resting against, Arthur looked around, prepared to defend himself if he had too.

"Who's there?" Arthur exclaimed into the night, green eyes searching for the source of the clanging metal sounds, trying in vain not to let his fear show.

The newly crowned Queen stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who was in the garden with, a chill rolling through him as he recognized him. How could he not recognize him, even if he was so changed from the last moment he missed? "Al-Alfred…Alfred Jones…?" He said, stumbling a little over the name.

It was impossible for him to have escaped, how was he...?

His eyes drifted over him taking in the difference three years imprisoned had done to him. He took in the blood and bruises, the scars and burns, as well as all the other signs of mistreatment, but more than the injuries- there was something that was far more shocking.

The mark of the king, resting on Alfred's upper arm, intricate and strong, undeniable in what it was- what it  _meant_.

"You..." He said suddenly, his eyes snapping back to Alfred's face, his scan of the younger man had only taken a moment, but to Arthur it'd felt longer. It had felt like forever.

Alfred had the Mark of the King... He had mixed feelings, both telling him to rush to his side, to go inside and clean him up, and telling him to run. Familiar blue eyes were cold and dark and  _so not the man he had loved and lost_. So he stayed rooted to the spot, emerald green locked onto Alfred's face, searching those eyes in desperation, in desire, in fear and confusion and hurt and sympathy.

But there was no give; Alfred had hardened in some indescribable manner, keeping himself moving forward somehow, despite how he looked about ready to fall over and die.

He watched the expressions play out on Arthur's face, feeling  _hollow_  as he watched Arthur's fear, and sorrow. He was hollow, emotionless-  _tired-_ Ready to end this, lay it, and him, to rest. "Glad to see I left an impression." Alfred growled in response after a moment, his voice hoarse, out of use for speaking- it had been mostly used to scream for the past 3 years, so it was understandable.

His feet, though bloody, bare, and frostbitten, marched forward dutifully to complete his mission – and dragged him towards Arthur, he gathered up the chains on his left hand-which was mostly useless- in the grip of his right. He started to swing the heavy metal object in preparation of his attack on Arthur. "Too bad I have to kill you." His own good eye narrowed on the Queen, the other covered by a bandage, but Arthur could clearly see the scar over his right cheek and up his face.

Arthur remembered him from the first time they met- in a meeting with the generals where his father had introduced them. He had been rather handsome, with an easy smile and beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair that was golden, oh so golden. He had been intelligent, and optimistic. That image clashed so clearly with this man before him- though the mark of the king stood out prominently on his shoulder, but he kept trudging closer, clearly having every intention of making good on his promise of death, despite his own injuries.

Arthur startled from his shock and raised a hand in a futile attempt to reason with the other. "W-wait…Alfred we should  _talk_  first. It would hardly do the kingdom good to lose both its new King and Queen so soon." He attempted to reason, hoping at the very least to catch his attention with that. His pulse was racing as he took a step back, trying to stay close, but get a bit further out of range. " _Please_ , Alfred…let me take you inside, your injuries…they  _need_  be treated- you'll  _die_ …"

He just continued to absorb the horrific visage of Alfred F Jones. God- what had they  _done_  to him for all these years? He'd always thought his father a cruel man…but he hadn't known just how true his thoughts had been- especially to other people. He had expected Alfred to rot in jail, but this looked more like… _torture_. The other was likely in utter agony, and yet he marched closer, and closer.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Kirkland." Alfred's voice was quiet and guttural, entirely honest, and the quiet boomed with unspoken antagonism. It hit Arthur then- Alfred had no idea he was the king- could he not see the mark…? "But it's too late for  _talking_. 3 years too late." And he was getting closer now, not yet within striking range but nearly there. His only eye was intensely focused on Arthur's face, dragging himself toward him as he prepared to strike, chains dragging him down and only his will to see this to its end pushing him forward. And he lashed out- leaping forward, animalistic, throwing his chain in an attempt to hit Arthur with its heavy metal and potentially break a limb.

Arthur's reaction was instinctual, moving to the side and using the tree to block Alfred chains from him. "You're the King of Spades Alfred. Please- you have to  _listen_  to me. My father was a cruel man, what he did to you was unfair and nothing I could say to you would make up for it! But  _please!_  Let me help you!" He was quick on his feet, having learned at an early age it was the best way to avoid most of his father's punishments. Just stay out of reach.

His expression growing irate when the queen slipped away, Alfred gathered the chain around his right hand again, prowling around the tree, glaring at where he thought the heir of his oppressor was. "Now,  _Kirkland_ … surely you must realize that if I'm the enemy of the state… I must do something to deserve the title." His mutterings were maddened, and Arthur realized as Alfred passed beside him unawares of his presence, that the man had a blind spot- a rather large one, on his left side.

Arthur took in his options and darted to the left. If he could stay out of sight and reach long enough…maybe he could talk some sense into him. "You're not an enemy of the state, Alfred. Please, just…stop this… I've the paperwork on my desk now, do you think you're the only one who suffered at his hand? Don't do this,  _please_ , it isn't who you are, Al." Alfred had been so kind, so cheerful. Prison and torture could change a man, but hopefully he was still in there somewhere. If Arthur could just reach him... He kept moving when he needed too, to keep out of Alfred's line of sight. "You always knew, that I was never your enemy."

The more sickening thought was that he would simply wear Alfred down, until the man gave into his injuries.

Alfred was quickly frustrated by how Arthur was moving- directly in the area where he couldn't see any longer. He first growled in frustration, his adrenaline pushing him forward with only one end goal- to kill,  _kill_ ,  _ **kill**_.

He didn't want to listen to reason.

He didn't want to be helped.

He wanted to kill this man, and then let death greet him with open arms.

He wanted to  _die_.

But, as Arthur kept out of sight, and out of reach, and kept talking, he heard the man discussing the "paperwork", and "not your enemy", Alfred wanted to cry, he wanted to give up. He wanted this to not be real, to wake up and still be with his lover and brother and friends…

"Please, please, love… this isn't you." Arthur spoke the dreaded words, the soft words that reminded him of times long past and froze him in his place, nightmares and dreams and reality blurring together as he realized that he couldn't keep on.

This wasn't who he was, yes, but he wasn't who he was before either.

His footsteps slowed as his body was giving up on his ability to complete his final mission, and he dropped his grip on his chain. His feet came to a dead stop, and he swayed, before dropping like a sack of potatoes with a harsh thud accompanied by the clanging of his chains to his knees. He didn't have the neck strength to keep his head up, not with the metal collar still around his neck, and so he fell forward onto his face, his expression crumpled in pain- but hidden by the fact he was pressed into the grass. "I'm not myself, of course I'm not." He said into the ground. "That me died with years of torture by his own kingdom."

Arthur winced as Alfred dropped like Arthur had secretly been hoping he would. He waited a moment, to know for sure that Alfred was too weak to stand again… But then he walked over, kneeling beside him and reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"Al…I'm  _sorry_. I'm so sorry for what happened to you, Al. You didn't deserve it…you didn't deserve any of what happened… and I know I can't take it back… But, please, Alfred… Let me help you  _now_." He said, his other hand reaching out to gently brush though his matted, bloodied hair- and Alfred flinched in accordance. Arthur took his hands back, taking a pin from his own hair and reaching down to pick the locks on the chains that were still attached to Alfred. "Please…I can make up for it, well… As best I can." He said, smiling a bit as he heard the lock click open.

He had freed Alfred's neck first, and it was easy to see how it had embedded in his skin, the metal bowing his head forward over time because of the weight, his neck curved in a way that reminded him exactly what sort of conditions the man before him was held in.

Alfred didn't move, not willing to, not  _wanting_  to. If he  _did_  he would... he would…

But he did that anyway, precisely what he had trying to avoid.

Weak and broken cries escaped his prone form, tears dripping into the earth as they had many times before, despite how he had thought he had long since run out.

He was so  _tired_ , he had fought so hard to get here and now he was too weak to do it, and the very man he had sought to kill was comforting him, just as he had many times before. He was only 22, and he was broken with the weight of the problems he had been shoved with, buried in, was now suffocating in. "I  _hate_  you..." He sobbed, his one good eye closing as he tried to curl into himself and failed. The words were empty, only carrying the emotion of something that was forced.

Arthur winced again, in part from seeing the damage that had been done to him, in part from the harsh words of someone who had once seen the stars in him, had promised to always protect him.

Despite the duality of Alfred, Arthur set to work a little quicker, finally tossing the chains to the side and grunting a bit at their weight. He stared at the figure, before acting on his emotions. He sat down and tried his best to gently roll Alfred onto his back, before resting the man's head on his lap. "I know, I know, love..." He cajoled softly, letting Alfred cry while he stroked his hair. "I'm going to call for the guards to have them bring you inside. The royal doctor will look after you." He would end the festivities inside and send everyone away. "You'll be taken care of..."

Alfred  _growled_ , his body still weak, but  _free_. With an incredible amount of effort, he pulled himself away from Arthur and sat up, absolutely refusing to be  _coddled_  by the man who symbolized his suffering. Tears dripped down his face, and forced himself back onto his feet.

"I'm sure they  _would_." He glared in anger, attempted to remain threatening even as his body threatened to fail him. "Look after me for you, I mean...I mean, I'm sure you'd love to take care of me… I'm a loose canon for the monarchy." He heavily emphasized the double meanings in the phrases Arthur used.

Arthur startled some and stood jerkily, trying to remain nonthreatening as he followed. "Alfred  _please_ \- I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't just saying things you know. You've the mark of the King on your shoulder."

Alfred wasn't going to be captured, he wasn't. He wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't go back there. He attempted to walk away, dragging his feet and holding himself tight with his right arm as his left hung uselessly to the side, but was only able to make it to the edge of the forest before his body shook and refused to keep moving, pain reaching his mind and telling him he had no other reserves of energy left to use.

No! He had to... _escape_. He had to... he wasn't going to go back…there wasn't any reason in his mind that answered why Arthur would say those things in any context other than being ready to kill him…

Arthur followed after him, reaching out to take his hand. "Trust me just once more. If you're more comfortable with it, then I won't get the guards involved. But let me take you to the doctor to be looked at…you're  _hurt_ , love."

He growled again, defensive, feeling like a cornered animal. He knew Arthur couldn't help him honestly. He couldn't want to either. It would destroy what little remained of Alfred.

However, Arthur remained at a distance, only reaching out his hand for Alfred to take. Alfred stared. "Why do you want to help me...?" His question was a confused murmur, still not certain what Arthur was talking about. He wasn't all that used to conversations, and it was becoming harder to concentrate on Arthur's words. He wanted to know why, why was Arthur offering his help? It didn't make sense... The world spun around him.

"Because I never agreed with what my father did to you. Because now I can help you…" And because once upon a time ago he'd… well. But Arthur kept that to himself. This was hardly the time to confession something like that. "And, as ironic as it is you're the next King of Spades Alfred." His movements were slow and measure as he reached up to touch the shoulder baring the mark of the king. "I don't want to see you hurt anymore. I never wanted to see you hurt. So please, let me help you."

Alfred's eyes widened as he felt Arthur's hand on the shoulder he couldn't see, desperately twisting his head to try and see the mark, but it remained entirely in his blind spot. No amount of moving his arm and head to see it would allow him to do so. And Arthur's words were quiet, and gentle, and Alfred felt the last of his strength giving out.

He had used everything to get here, and then everything to try and kill Arthur. He had nothing left, and so simply staggered away, refusing to pass out against the symbol of pain, the one who was going to kill him.

He had gone foul, he was a foul hand- he was going to die.

The world went dark as he simply couldn't keep going. He couldn't keep on.

Arthur started forward as Alfred passed out, trying to catch him to keep him from hitting the ground too hard but failing. Despite that, he picked the king up into his arms, and called for the guards, shouting at them to take Alfred to the medical wing of the castle. They rushed out, and stared openly at the battered and bruised King of Spades, unconscious in the arms of the Queen. They were likely equally shocked that the man was none other than the once distinguished general of Spades turned traitor, and prisoner.

"Don't just stand there then! Help me get him inside!" Arthur said, irate at the slow uptake, letting the guards pick up the dead weight, as much as the thought sickened him to refer to Alfred as such.

He followed them there, posting two men to stand watch at the door, and ordering Alfred be protected. They didn't dare disobey both because of who Arthur was. If that wasn't enough, the mark on Alfred's shoulder was more than enough of an incentive.

After ensuring Alfred would be cared for, he returned to the party, announcing the end of the festivities. There were calls of confusion and upset, damaged pride. But, Arthur simply explained that an unexpected event had taken place that required his immediately attention. He would be making a formal announcement once it had been taken care of.

He then did a 180 degree turn, and marched back to the medical wing, where the King of Spades had finally shown up, in the body of a man that Arthur had loved with all of his being, whose love had led to the very same man's current state of being.

XXXXX

... Though, I must say in regards to my latest article, posted in the newspaper this morning, that I didn't get to say everything I had wanted to. My editor made me take this bit out, but hey! This is my talk show, and the only editing voice on here are my brothers. So- get this, my loyal listeners! When the newly named Queen Arthur Kirkland visited Diamonds shortly before the death of his father, the late King of Spades, he refused to answer any of my questions about the Kingdom of Spades and the relation of his father to the Tilt experiments of the Great War. Too bad for him, though. I had just gotten a piece of juicy intell that apparently Alfred F Jones was still alive! It would have been nice to have gotten some sort of confirmation in regards to those rumors of how they were lovers, before the now ex-General was labeled a traitor to Spades and sentenced to life in the harsh mountain prison, by the North border of the Spades kingdom to Clubs. But the really interesting bit was that, apparently, Alfred, a traitor, is the new King of Spades, which is why the guard who told me- who refuses to be named- fled.

But I'm getting off track now! What I was going to say was really interesting was how Arthur shut me down. Maybe the new Queen is hiding something? I couldn't say, but if I had to really wager a guess, I'd have to think so!

This is Laura "Belgium" Peeters, signing off for the night, and please send in your letters to my work address so that we can talk about your concerns regarding Diamonds or any other major news in Cards in two nights time!

( _ **A transcripted excerpt from Backdoor News by Laura Peeters, aka "Belgium", hosted on Diamonds Free Radio**_ )


	3. Tilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 chapters, since there are 13 cards in a suit! I had gotten the number wrong when i first posted, heeh...

Excerpt taken from the Diagnosis Manual of Cards, Edition 5, chapter 16 authored by Doctor Tino Vainamoinen, focusing on cognitive disabilities known in cards.

Tilt is catagorized as a medical condition resulting in severe emotional upset, mental confusion, or frustration in which a person stops acting rationally and becomes essentially a walking puppet for other individuals. Though it is an extremely rare natural occurance, it is more commonly known for use in torture, to force someone to do things they wouldn't do under any other normal circumstances, from killing a loved one to assassinating the leader of a country. It is currently incredibly illegal in the word of Cards to purposefully cause and/or manipulate Tilt, as it remains a human rights violation(*) unlike any other. There are no known cures to tilt, but we at the Medical Association of Clubs, in conjunction with the General Medical Association of Cards, work tirelessly to finding new solutions for victims of these unethical methods. To report a suspected case of tilt to the General Medical Association of Cards, please send a letter to the following address...

(* found at the bottom)

XXXXX

Arthur settled nearby, to wait for Alfred to rejoin the waking world, the doctors having treated what they could while he was deeply unconscious. It was a waiting game now, it seemed.

However, it wasn't a very  _long_  wait, as Alfred woke up the moment his body would allow him, the man jumping out of bed, ready to attack those who might deny him his freedom. He spotted Arthur, an angry glare in his eyes as he watched him, looking almost like a mummy with how his body was completely wrapped up in bandages, including some over his bad eye, his good one occasionally glancing around the room, but largely keeping attention directly on Arthur. "Where am I?" He asked, voice cold, sounding almost frightened.

"The medical wing. You've just been treated for various injuries. Please lay back down before you hurt yourself further." He said, watching Alfred with clear concern. Arthur took a couple steps closer and motioned to the bed, not yet ready to reach out and help if Alfred didn't want it. "No one here is going to hurt you. I promise."

Much like Arthur had previously stated, Alfred flinched in sudden agonizing pain, his legs crying out against moving any longer, his knees buckling beneath him. The most he could do was to aim his fall backwards, to land on the bed, gritting his teeth as his entire body was wracked with pain, all of his injuries coming back to him at once. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him in pain! He closed his eyes, and tensed up to try and cover exactly how much discomfort Alfred was in.

The doctor looked helplessly at the man, unsure of what he could possibly do to alleviate the obvious issue with trusting him that the King had. He moved quietly to inject him with a powerful sedative, under orders to help him even though he had to do it without Alfred's permission.

Alfred was injected in his blind spot, on the left side- a problem that was quickly becoming far more detrimental than he originally thought it would be, since he couldn't defend attacks he couldn't even  _see_. However, Alfred didn't have much time to think on that, the drugs quickly doing their work and freeing him from his pain for the moment, but loosening the screw in his brain further.

He felt the world becoming the familiar hollowness that came with sedatives, and he then felt another pinch. When the pain left his body, he knew in the back of his mind that it had been an anesthetic. Irritation, anger, fears…it all slipped away from him, and he let himself float mindlessly.

Arthur thanked the doctor for his help and with his help managed to get Alfred onto the bed properly. He sighed and walked around to the right side of the bed, sitting down and taking Alfred's hand. "Rest Alfred, you'll be given the best care possible until you're well again. Then you can decide what you want to do. Whatever that may be I won't fight you on it."

"I wanna die." Alfred's words were slurred from the pain medication, his expression flat, and hopeless. "Tha's all I wan." His blue eye looked to Arthur, devoid of pain and hatred. He looked  _empty,_ devoid of life that he had once fought so hard to protect and had valued so highly. "Is' all I wan'ed... Nothin' left..." He explained, before he looked toward the ceiling, sighing. "M' a dead man...walking."

Alfred's words were starting to leave the realm of the sane, as the drugs took effect, and he smiled mindlessly, the expression not precisely happy, but better than before.

A cold chill ran through Arthur and he sighed softly, squeezing his hand lightly. "I hope then that I can change your mind before you're well.." He said softly, his shoulders slumping slightly as he watched Alfred. He motioned for he doctor, instructing him to have a meal prepared for Alfred. Something easy for him. "Even as you are… you'd likely be a better King than my father ever was."

Alfred's eye focused on him, and he shook his head with a resignation he had never known of Alfred. "Served him loyally, I did..." He slurred, the words hard to understand. "Never participated in anythin'..." He face crumpled into sorrow. "Taken, caught, hurt... hurt so bad..." Alfred wasn't looking at him any more, Arthur could tell, despite how his gaze was directed his way. "Different now, but is it? Is it different...? I'm nothing, that's why he wanted to kill me, since I was better liked...I'm not king, sir, I'm not king, sir... A rag card…"

His words were obsessive, obviously meant for someone who wasn't there. "Please, don't do this, I didn't do anything wrong! Sir! Please don't  _discard me_!" His voice was hoarse as he stared in wide-eyed fright at someone who wasn't there. Then he softened. "I promise sir, of course I wouldn't question your right to the throne, or hurt Arthur... Arthur is everything- sir, why would I hurt him? I'm a rag card, I'm a  _donk_ \- I can't do anything against you. Why would I?" And his words dissolved into the nonsensical once again.

Arthur squeezed his hand as Alfred spoke in that maddened, slurred voice, to his hallucination…that had to be about the old king. He reached up and stroked his hair softly, concern washing over him again.

He'd been so defensive the few times he and Alfred had met at the start of their relationship. He was a stubborn thing and Arthur hadn't wanted to get to close with anyone. Over time…Alfred had won him over. But this questioned everything to him Alfred had ever said.

Had he every really felt that way? Had he loved Arthur, truly? Or was it just because he'd been the kings son. Maybe he'd never know for sure…but he'd nurse Alfred back to health, on his own- if he had too. "It's alright Alfred. He can't... he won't hurt you now."

Arthur's words drew Alfred's sudden attention, his eye refocusing and staring at him sorrowfully. "Really...?" He asked, quiet. "Why did he...?" He thought, before he remembered. "Right...they mentioned he had died..." Alfred murmured, closing his blue eye and finally seeming to rest.

He had been soothed by the knowledge that the accursed man was dead, relaxing into the pillows and blankets, and he gave into his urges to sleep, sleep and forget what had happened to him. It was over now, right?

As Arthur waited, his grip on Alfred's hand tight, he watched as his king's breathing- though it had been so erratic- seemed to calm, and his body sagged into the bed. Once handsome features smoothed out with his descent back into dreamland, which, Arthur imagined, was thoroughly more pleasant with the pain medication in his system.

Of course, the food arrived moments later, and Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples as he stared at his current, growing problem.

With Alfred asleep, Arthur had the food sent back. Ideally, they would be ready whenever he called for it. Which left Arthur to stay by his side and watch over him. Stubborn as ever, he allowed the doctors do what they needed but absolutely refused to leave. Even at their urging that he go to bed, with the nurse promising to inform him if anything happened or changed- Arthur refused. It was likely Alfred would hurt himself or someone else if he wasn't there. If anyone was to be hurt  _he_  should bear it rather than a nurse or the doctor.

And that was why Arthur fell asleep beside Alfred's bed, his hand still resting over Alfred's as he lay leaning forward against the bed.

XXXXX

Hours later, Alfred's bandages required changing, and so Arthur was woken so that they could do so as quickly as possible. Many of his wounds required further inspection- particularly his left arm and his feet, and he needed antiseptic in anything that had been bleeding before his arrival. The list of injuries and suspected damage to his body was long. Frostbite, warped bones, fractures- his left arm was useless, and the suspected cause was from pulling the chains up out from the earth, partly healed burns and cuts, as well as new ones, skin rubbed raw from the embedded chains, a left eye that looked infected, and was entirely closed. He was probably blind on that side, since Arthur knew that Alfred had a large spot where he simply didn't see anything to his left. And that was the physical damage, and likely not all of it.

The mental damage was harder to quantify in numbers, but Arthur knew even  _now_ , that it was incalculable anyway. Alfred's personality had undergone such a dramatic change, from a man willing to sacrifice everything to protect what he cared about, to someone who didn't care about anything any longer. The mistrust, the jumpiness, the hatred…these were expected of someone who had been a prisoner for so long. But the fear he could sometimes see behind the cold mask was likely indicative of something deeper than even that.

It was almost as though he thought Arthur was personally responsible for every one of those injuries to him, despite how Arthur hadn't seen him from the moment his father declared Alfred Jones a traitor of the state and gave him a dishonorable discharge from service, before announcing a manhunt.

Alfred reacted instantly to the movement of Arthur pulling away, nurses having to hold him down as he struggled, at first in anger, spitting and fighting and refusing to be taken anywhere. A nurse grew frustrated at the man-not understanding why he was fighting them- and pressed on his broken shoulder, pupils shrinking in fear, giving into his more primal feelings and going limp as the nurse shouted for him to do. They then took full advantage of his fear of being hurt more. The doctor was the least bit happy they had to use his fright to make him cooperate. The nurse explained that he was simply irrational, plus it could provide Arthur an opportunity to bond with his intended king.

It sickened Arthur to his core, to hear her talk of Alfred like he wasn't deserving of that right of comfort. He wasn't happy with the fear Alfred expressed as they tended more to his wounds, either. When they had finally finished tending to him, Arthur came back to his side, making sure he stayed where Alfred would be able to see him. "Alfred…?" He softly alerted the man to his presence, touching his hand gently. He was so wounded it made Arthur sick to think about. He wished he'd acted sooner somehow, done something more to help him directly. He wished he had stopped the nurse from hurting him, since Alfred looked almost  _shell-shocked_ …

After a moment more of staring into nothing, his one blue eye looked back at Arthur, and he didn't say anything. His breathing came fast and brittle, as he saw Arthur's hand coming to touch his, and he felt the touch, flinching almost immediately and tensing his whole body in response, but nothing came next.

Alfred opened his eye again, and looked back to Arthur, confused, upset, unsure of what he was going to do now. "... Yes?" He said, his voice slow, tentative, still hoarse- clearly from not being used enough, but it was much less confrontational since he had been cowed by fear.

"It's alright." He said softly, sitting again and leaning closer. "You're safe remember? We won't hurt you." He promised, reaching up slowly and brushing the hair from Alfred's face. Arthur offered him a soft smile, wishing he could help him relax more, to help more than this. "You're safe with me."

"Don't touch me." He said immediately, withdrawing his head as far back as it would go. Alfred was plenty willing to knock himself off the bed first because they were lying, lying, lying, they had hurt him, made him cooperate, Alfred was dirty, bad, bad, hurt.

Arthur took his hand back the moment Alfred told him not to touch him. "Of course, I'm sorry. I won't do it again." He said, lowering his hand to the bed. He smiled a little again. "May I... May I still hold onto your hand?" He asked though he'd let go of his hand too, since 'Don't touch me' was fairly final and understandable.

"...Only my left one." Alfred conceded, and specified the useless one to Arthur, taking a moment longer to continue. "I need to be able to move the working one if I need to." He took a deep, shaky breath, and fought to relax again, settling back with his head on the pillow. "Stay in my sight, "I can't see all that well- p-particularly when things get close." He admitted, stumbling over the second bit as he admitted his weakness. "They broke my glasses..." He whispered. "A…a long time ago, so even if I had both eyes, I'd still not be able to see much- but it's easier if I know where you are..."

He took a moment more to think about the last, unspoken, part of his sentence.  _And I don't trust you._ But he was quiet for now, since Arthur seemed to be nicer than the others were. If Alfred was going to stay safe, he'd have to stay close to those more respecting of his choices.

Arthur nodded but smiled a little with a soft chuckle. "It's terribly difficult to hold your left hand, while staying to your right." He said, amusement in his tone as Alfred relaxed a little. "I'll have you a new pair of glasses made. See what can be done to bring your sight back to you." He attempted conversation, but then realized Alfred was staring at him, devoid of thought for that sort of trivial discussion, or perhaps he was thinking about something else entirely.

When Alfred didn't speak up again, Arthur continued. "Would you eat if I had food brought in?" He asked, deciding that would be the best way to go about it. To give Alfred choices he could make for himself- little things that gave him control of himself, if nothing else for now.

He frowned, watching Arthur mistrustfully…  _but_  he gave in easily enough, his heart still beating too fast and his fear overriding his anger, and perhaps something beneath the will to survive was begging him to listen and let Arthur help. Perhaps it was what was left of his heart. "...Fine. That sounds okay." He murmured, agreeing with him. "It's more just… I  _prefer_  being able to move, and  _protect_  myself if I need to." He hesitantly confided, his voice sort of caught in his throat from something other than fear. "I just… I want to be able to stay safe, if something happened, and I can't move my left arm at all, so it's the better one to give to you." He nodded, before using the right hand to drag his left over his chest, to where Arthur could hold it.

Arthur sent the servant in the hall to have a meal brought up for Alfred. He was still slow in his movements so Alfred would be able to follow them as he reached over to hold Alfred's left hand. "I understand. It's alright, thank you, though, for telling me why." He smiled at him a bit again. An honest but awkward smile played on the edge his lips, even as a shiver ran up the back of Alfred's spine, and his eye rolled back up into his head a bit as something coursed through his body, cold and overpowering. "I'm glad you trust me at least that little bit, love."

"I don't." He corrected, suddenly on edge as he was overrun. "I simply prefer you knowing that should you try something." He growled. Arthur was startled by the aggression that seemed to have come out of nowhere. "That I am very much capable of doing something to stop it." His blue eye turned away from him, refusing to meet his gaze as he stewed in his anger, which again, had come on suddenly.

Arthur's smile faded quickly with Alfred's words, and he took his hand back, before setting it on his own lap.

He was coming to realize it wouldn't be easy to convince Alfred to trust him again… He didn't know why he had expected him to do so instantly after everything that had happened.

But it still  _hurt_ , to the deepest of Arthur's core, to know with no amount of uncertainty just how  _little_  his darling Alfred thought of him now. He wished he hadn't said anything. "Of course. Considering the state you were in when you came to the garden I wouldn't dare doubt you could." He answered slowly, reluctant to answer him. He looked Alfred over again, taking in the bandages that wrapped around him now, clean and fresh- really, looking anywhere but Alfred's face now.

Alfred grumbled, before he set his left hand back down at his side, closing his good eye and allowing himself to fall into a light sleep, more of a trance than anything. It had been a common thing to happen to him, in the many hours he had been left alone to rot in his cell, buried into the earth. He fell into it now, not wanting Arthur to talk with him any longer. There were old scars on his face, which had long since healed- on his chin, going up the right side of his face entirely, and it was easy to see the physical damage.

Arthur slowly took it in, sighing slowly. He leaned back against the chair and wondering how different thins could have been if he'd been braver.

When the meal was brought in, Arthur sat up, not going to touch Alfred if he didn't have to. "Alfred, do you need help sitting up?" He asked gently, praying that the other wouldn't be offended by his asking.

"No, I think I can manage." He murmured, having been woken up by the servant startling him, by padding in and placing the food down on the table to the left side of the bed. His voice was soft now; softer than it had been this whole time, so that was rather interesting. Especially after that show of aggression just a bit earlier. And with that, he pulled his left hand onto his lap and slowly pulled himself up, before his head slouched forward, and his back curved in along with it. He looked strange, hunched over like that- but Arthur supposed it was the effect of the heavy chain that had been on his neck.

Arthur nodded to the servant, motioning for them to come around to the right. After walking around the servant placed the tray over Alfred's lap so he could eat. With a low bow the servant left the two of them alone. Arthur stayed where he was, watching him in confusion and worry.

Alfred only had one working hand, and so resigned himself to having to forfeit his ensured ability to fight to eat. "Soup was a smart idea." He mumbled, acknowledging that his stomach had to have shrunk in the time he had been imprisoned, using his right hand to grab the spoon, and hope that nothing spilled on himself.

Moments passed with nothing but Alfred struggling to take a few sips of the broth, before Alfred spoke again. "So, I'm the king, huh?"

Somehow, Arthur knew it wasn't a happy fact for Alfred, more of a resigned question than anything else.

"Yes." He acknowledged, gesturing to the left bicep, just out of Alfred's line of sight, where the telling mark lie on pale skin.

"...What does my mark look like...?" Alfred eventually had to ask, unable to see it, and not precisely  _ready_  to see himself in a mirror- he knew what he would look like, and yet...he didn't really want to know what he looked like. He'd rather stay in the illusion that he hadn't changed, physically, to keep attached to his mental image of himself.

Arthur looked away a moment. "It looks very similar to mine." He said, pulling the sleeve of his right arm up in order to show the queen's mark on his forearm. "Yours is larger though, and more detailed. A spade at its center, mostly hollow on the inside, filled only with a swirled pattern that follows the curves of the spade. At the center of the Spade, a pair of clock hands is set to the ten and four…well; they would be if they were put up against a real clock. Your mark differs from mine with curved lines flowing off the sides of the spade itself, lined with small shapes that look like leaves. Circling the top point is something that resembles a crown." He told him, finally looking back at him.

Alfred had paused as he stared at his lap. He nodded belatedly after Arthur finished speaking, putting down the soupspoon again to touch his left bicep a bit. "Well, it sounds awfully pretty." He admitted. "…A fair bit nicer than I imagine the rest of me looks at the moment, covered in all these bandages..." He sighed. "Not that I would look all that without them. I don't know if I want to see what scars I have..." Alfred was wistful now; closing his one blue eye as he thought back to the last time he'd seen his reflection. "I'd much rather imagine myself with a full head of blonde hair, without all these scars, and a nice tan." He said, looking at his hands. "I must say, I don't think I have the tan at all, and I think my hair got shaved at some point, but it's actually hard to remember when..." Alfred murmured, not willing to test that by thinking hard on the subject.

He was startled as he remembered that the Arthur before him was  _real_ , and proved it as he touched Alfred's arm softly. Somewhere as he had been speaking, he had starting to think this was another dream.

"A tan shouldn't be too hard to get back with enough time in the sun. And it seems your hair is growing back well enough. It's enough- I can run my fingers through it some." He said before pursing his lips a bit. "Though, I'm sure you look rather fetching still." Arthur added after a moment, not sure if he wanted to press that subject as Alfred stared at him, boggled for one reason or another.

Alfred frowned after another moment, before he sighed. "I wish it was that easy." He admitted, blue eye looking up. "I was 19 going in, and it's been three years, correct?" He asked, looking at him quietly. "What's the month?" He asked, curious to know if his birthday was coming around. "I wonder what became of my brother, too..."

"April tenth." Arthur answered quietly, guilt settling over him as he sat still, watching Alfred eat slowly. He wondered what was going to happen now. Alfred was unpredictable. Less than an hour ago he'd been aggressive all over again, and now he was  _reminiscing_. "I could find out if you like. I can have some men out looking for him by this evening." He added after a moment. "But as far as I'm aware my father hadn't paid the rest of your family any mind."

"I hadn't spoken to him since I had left for the war." He murmured. "Matthew wasn't interested in the war at the time, and called me an idiot for being apart of it, even though I'm just a Rag card... we got into a fight…and… Undoubtedly, he thinks I'm a traitor now, or that I'm dead…I'd prefer if he didn't know otherwise." He murmured. "I was born in July, on the forth." He mumbled, strangely conversational, but he was tired, and he was weary from fighting, soothed from the food in his stomach and his full belly for the first time in ages. Arthur thought it was strange particularly because most of what he was talking about were already things he knew about Alfred- his birthday, his brother and the bad note they had left on…and more.

"He's a year younger than me- born a few days before my birthday, it was funny enough..." He was winding down, looking as though something else was coursing over him. Arthur saw the brief change in his facial expression, something glossing over his eye. "And, I do wonder what became of him..." Alfred was conversational- no longer even the slightest bit argumentative. Perhaps this was a good time to talk with him.

"I'll find out for you…" Arthur said after a moment of silence had passed by them. "He may find out you haven't died though, when you're announced as king." He added after that, looking back at Alfred's face again. His fingers tightening some on his pants where they rested. He sat straight and proper as he'd been taught too, an uncomfortable stiffness to his posture.

He laughed, bitter. "I won't let myself be announced as King, Kirkland. I fully intend on ending myself whenever I find myself able. I imagine if I were to try such a stunt in my current shape and position, you simply wouldn't let me." He said, leveling him with a stare. "I failed to kill you- but you are correct in saying you're not at fault for your fathers sins." Alfred acquitted him of guilt. "That being said, in the wretched state I'm in, I will just keep going. No. The last part of my plan in getting here was to die."

Arthur felt a knot in his stomach and his chest tighten painfully, as Alfred's words did nothing to ease the guilt he felt over it. Especially now, seeing the result of three years of torture and abuse. "Then I suppose I won't have to waste time and resources on you, as I had planned. I'll tell the doctors to stop treating you, if all you plan to do is end your life." Arthur's knuckles turned white as he struggled not to shout at him, though his words cut deep. He denied himself the urge to reach out and slap sense into Alfred. It wouldn't' do anything but provoke him. "I should have just let you kill me in the garden. At least then it would have had some sense of meaning rather than just being a cowards way out." He bit out after a moment. "So, I won't stop you. If that's what you're set on. It's your choice. I won't, I won't make myself responsible for you."

Though Arthur hadn't been looking at him, something in Alfred had faded, and the original, confusion sheen in his eyes left, leaving a new sheen in its place.

"Am I the coward, Kirkland...?" He said, leveling a cool stare at the other's chest. "I remember you- yes, your father was quite upset about my dawdling with you- you were to be queen, but the movement I was allegedly a part of simply wanted me to topple you both. Of course, I hadn't, but telling him /why/ I wasn't interested in killing you had only angered him and ensured my prolonged suffering." Alfred looked down at his lap, as he put down the bowl of soup to one side. "Guards would say things to each other- I know that you knew I was in there." He shrugged, standing on his legs once again, his body shuddering in protest. "I would see you, you would hurt me…I had hoped those to be dreams…"

That last bit caught Arthur's attention, the words and the fact Alfred was standing again. He gaped at the scene, helpless as his voice failed him.

"If you will not help me, then I suppose I will get on with it." He said, nothing in his voice as he started the agonizing effort of trudging along on his legs once again, ignoring their screams of pain and protest. Alfred knew there was nothing left for him, beside the feeble memories of times long since gone.

His mind was showing Alfred only part of what had happened, but he wasn't going to stay. He didn't know the games his mind played on the two of them.

Arthur flinched, like he'd been slapped. They were thankfully alone in the room as Arthur lifted his head again, he watched Alfred make his slow way across the floor. "I killed him." He said, his voice soft again. "He'd fallen ill, just a cold, nothing serious. I insisted on giving him the medicine." He was shaking now. "Yes I'm a coward, I was afraid of him. For all his claims to care for me- he was merciless with punishments if I displeased him. What was I supposed to do Alfred? Did they whisper near your cell the argument we had after he had you jailed? Of the bruise left behind for weeks after?" He stood then, still trembling and his voice tight in his throat.

"He didn't care for you." Alfred corrected Arthur's misconception of what he said. "You are not at fault for what he did for me- he didn't care about you, and I knew this. What he cared about was what I was to you. I was already popularly liked- imagine if you and I conspired together." He smiled, without humor. "That is why he kept me alive. If I was alive, he told me, you wouldn't disobey him." He kept moving forward. "If you're sincere about letting me have my peace, then I imagine you wouldn't follow me." Alfred's voice was bitter, but there was no other edge to it.

"You're wrong then. It's my fault you suffered." He said finally, taking a few steps after him. "My fault you were kept alive and tortured." He reached out to take his left hand frowning at him. "Alfred..." He pursed his lips again and tried to steady himself. "Please don't. I can't even follow you..."

Alfred paused, and nodded. "I don't really want to die, not really..." He murmured. "There's no other way out, Kirkland. I'm so tired, so lost now, and it seems like if I do it, I held on so tightly to life for nothing. What became of me, in the end?" He laughed, tears dripping from his eye again. "Look at me, Arthur, what has this turned me into? I can't even smile truthfully anymore, I can barely sleep- typically in order to "sleep" I have to simply fall unconscious...sleep terrorizes me, I'm simply back where I was, in that northern prison. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do." He was babbling now, his eyes wide, staggering as his legs wouldn't support him. "I want this to stop, but I held on for so long, for what?"

Arthur stepped in front of him and reached up to touch his cheek, expecting Alfred to flinch away, to push him away. "I... I don't know, but I'll help you through this it's.. it's the least I can do for you. Come back to bed..." He said softly, though his voice was still tight, his posture stiff even with his trembling as he shifted to help Alfred back to the bed.

Alfred flinched, but he had come at him from his right side, so he didn't get as bothered, shaking, he wrapped his right arm around Arthur's side, leaning heavily against him to try and take the weight off his legs. "I can't go fast...sorry." he apologized, most strangely of all the things he had done so far, his feet dragging on the floor, nearly useless still, blood seeping out of the bandages wrapped around them.

"It's alright, take your time, I won't rush you." He said, helping him slowly back to the bed. As soon as Alfred was laying down again Arthur went to get the bandages himself and the things he needed. Coming back over Arthur set to work redressing the wounds on his feet himself. It gave him something to do with his hands and he could focus on trying to calm down.

"Why are you upset?" Alfred decided to ask, not throwing in any insults or unsavory actions. He wanted to know why he was upset with what was happening- Arthur had been the one to say he wasn't going to give Alfred any more aid or assistance to live, it had only made sense to not desire to suffer if things weren't going to get better. Alfred's eyes were empty as they looked to Arthur for answers.

Arthur didn't answer him right away, focusing on the task at hand. When he was finished he looked back up at him but avoided his eyes. "Because I've lost you..." He said, throwing away the old bandages before he sat back down in the chair beside he bed. "And it's my own fault."

"Well, yes and no." Alfred said, voice soft. "No, you're not responsible for what happened . Your father is, in all shapes and forms. You represent a lot of it, but it's a good reminder to see you that you suffered too..." He mumbled. "Secondly...yeah, you would be responsible if what you say is true. It's a curious thing. One moment you tell me that you don't want to waste your resources on me, that you think that your doctors shouldn't help me." He shrugged, withdrawn. "The next, you're telling me to get back to bed. Arthur, did it occur to you that I don't want to die? I want the pain to  _end_ , Arthur. I've suffered, and it looks like, even now- well, especially now- that I'll continue to suffer." He explained. "Surely, to die is better than to go on like this? Unable to walk, or sleep, or smile?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I might still love you?!" Arthur snapped, looking up at him again and gripping his pants tightly. He grit his teeth and looked away again, hugging himself, pulling his hand further away from Alfred. "I don't want you dead, I don't want you to suffer anymore but I don't know what to do to help you and I can't… I can't stand to hear you talk like that."

Alfred softened. "Arthur..." He murmured, looking at him sorrowfully, before he sighed, sitting up. "Let me explain this for you- I'll try to..." His voice was shaking. "Its been 3 years, of mostly social isolation, the o-only interaction that was guaranteed was...was torture." His voice was small, tight, stuttering. "I-I can't sleep... because of  _nightmares_ \- the stress caused by trauma...is a real, righteous thing- and I ca-can't  _sleep_..."

He gasped. "It hurts, everything hurts, physically, my body is battered by torture along with my trek from the  _mountains_ , ranging 30 miles on foot, with chains still dragging behind me. I've barely have eaten anything, and… and…" He sobbed. "And I'm afraid- so afraid. Of what could happen- from the thought of more torture to being killed. They'd always been strong enough to protect themselves, and though they make threats, they know their own body...is on the verge of collapse at any time they try and stand. And so, anything is a threat- everyone is a threat. In their torture, they would give me hallucinogenics, make me see people I love…  _hurt_  me... you, Matthew, my parents..." he gasped. "For all I know... this is a dream, a hallucination, and I'm still there, still there..." Alfred sobbed. "And nothing seems okay...nothing seems like it could be okay ever again..." He couldn't keep going, his body doubling on itself, but he was too upset to notice or care.

Arthur listened, shaking a little and biting his lip, wincing slightly as Alfred explained. He'd been through so much and Arthur couldn't even begin to understand it. His father had been cruel but never that cruel to him. "I'm sorry Alfred. I didn't... I didn't realize, the extent..." He reached up to put his hand on the bed, close to his hand but not touching it. "I'm sorry, I'll try to, to be more patient... less reactive about it."

The man didn't have the strength to pull away, though he desperately wanted to. He was so tired, so scared, he just... he just...! He couldn't take it, he couldn't...take it... He looked at Arthur's hand, which was so close, yet so far away to Alfred's own. He lacked the strength to take it either. "I'm so afraid- Arthur. What if this is a lie? Why would I trust you, if I were to do so, I could wake up there only to be miserable again, and then again, and again. Or what if this dream becomes a new nightmare- what if you decide to hurt me, right now? It's not like I could stop you if I wanted to..." Alfred was sobbing still, prompting doctors to finally enter the room, no longer willing to have their patient suffer like this.

"I'm sorry I don't, I don't know..." Arthur stood, backing away to let the doctors do what they needed to do to help him however they could. He didn't need a lot of prompting to let the nurse led him a little ways from the bed. He hugged himself, wishing he knew what to do, how to help him more. He wondered if maybe his brother would be able to help, if he'd know what to do. What if Alfred was right, what if he tuned out just like his father? Hurt Alfred and he kingdom more.

Alfred's face crumpled as Arthur just kept pulling away, giving in with resignation to his fate- whatever it was to be.

That wasn't what Alfred had meant- he was referring to his inability to trust his own perception, and so was wary of everything. The doctor administered him the pain medication, while the nurses asked what he had been saying of Arthur, trying to find out what they could do for their Queen. Alfred was relaxing because of the medication again, and his tears slowed to a stop, face devoid of pain.

"Sir." The doctor said, voice soft so as not to frighten Alfred. "You should rest- our patient's prime difficulty seems to be that he can't trust anyone, not even himself. That being said, you aren't perfect, and so we suggest you get some sleep, if you want to stay here please allow us to set up a bed for you as well."

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I, I suppose I should..." He wanted to stay near Alfred but it felt like he was doing more harm than good. He should sleep, rest would do them both a bit of good he was sure, but if Alfred had a nightmare... "Please arrange for a bed to be set up in here. I would like to stay close to him." This wasn't really the time for his own self-doubts and insecurities. He would only make it worse that way. "Just in case."

They agreed, making him sit down and consume some food, telling him that he was fine. "Alfred's substantially better than he was earlier." The doctor continued- "He's talking. He was fighting with us, you mentioned he barely said anything the first night he was here. Meaning, Alfred's coming around...let's call it "coming to". Like he's waking up from a coma, or something similar." They smiled. "The first night, he can't really communicate, he's agitated and upset. Now he's established a method of talking, though its clear that he's confused and afraid of what is happening. The next stage is making him understand and come to terms with what happened, and establishing his presence on this level, meaning, getting him to understand that this is real… Plus, we have reason to suspect at this point that Alfred…well, to suspect that perhaps, while he was being tortured, he had magic used on him. And specifically, mental manipulation, used in conjunction with drugs. It wouldn't be out of the question to suspect that the mood swings, as well as his "mission" to kill the Queen… are the result of such tactics. We…we think it's tilt, your majesty- it's a tactic that's not precisely…legal, but not unknown- especially to your father's prisoners. It's adding mental confusion and upset to his mind forcibly, and causing him to act in a way that's unlike himself."

The nurse pat Arthur's back comfortingly. "But, we understand that this is hard on you, too. Talk to him, he seems to want you to, and, Arthur." The nurse said, smiling. "It's not when the suicidal person talks about being suicidal that they are at the most danger...no, its when they stop talking about it. When they're talking about it, they're trying to get help. They want someone to stop them. He wants you to stop him. Don't lose hope in him just yet."

Arthur listened to her and just nodded, relaxing a little. "Right, I see..." He said softly with a sigh. The medical staff was rather understanding and patient. He was more than a little grateful for them. "I went about it wrong then I snapped at him... I didn't mean it..." He would have to remember that, to keep himself in check. "Thank you..." He told her, reaching out and patting her hand slightly.

The nurse pat his back once again, and then they were told that the bed was prepared- not that far from Alfred's own. It was on his right side, even, meaning Alfred would be able to see him. The young man looked as though he had fallen asleep, apparently having been given a sleep aid along with water. "Get some rest, sire. It wouldn't be a good thing for Spades to have two royalty out of commission."

He watched Alfred from a distance for a while, wishing he could go back and change what he'd said. But that wasn't possible. Arthur had acted out, and if it was truly  _tilt_  that was influencing Alfred like this... then Alfred had truly paid the price, it seemed. Now he lay still, with a sort of quiet upset and resignation painted over his exposed features.

At the nurses gentle urging Arthur nodded and slipped out of his shoes and jacket before getting into the bed they'd prepared for him. It wasn't long after he'd lain down before he was asleep. He had been far more tired than he'd thought he was, but he needed to readjust, or he'd end up doing something stupid- perhaps becoming a bit tilted himself.

XXXXX

*Victims of the various Tilt experiments that took place in the Great War had a 85% suicide rate, and the most of the other 15% were either murdered, arrested, or sent to an asylum. Less than 3% made a recovery that allowed them to live with assistance- and less than 5% live today, in various places scattered throughout cards. None ever made a "full" recovery, but most have come to terms with what happened to them.


	4. Dark Bet

(Excerpt Taken from  _Magic Spells of Spades_ _,_  authored by Lukas Bondevik, graduate of the Spadian Magical Academy)

"Dark Bets are spells that require a great deal of risk to pull off successfully. They usually need an end goal of someone dying, though not always. It thereby easy to think that they are called dark spells because they are inherently " _dark"_ , reading the word as "evil", but this isn't the reality. In truth, it is because the spell must be performed when the caster doesn't know all the potential repercussions of their actions, be it killing someone or otherwise. They aren't illegal, only because it is exceptionally difficult to pull off, and usually will only end up killing the caster, should they be so foolhardy as to attempt such a spell."

XXXXX

Arthur slept through the night, waking the next morning feeling tired. He slept fitfully, his nightmares coming back to haunt him- but compared to Alfred's they were probably tame.

The Queen of Spades sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, before he looked over to Alfred, watching him a bit and remembering yesterday all too well. He'd have to have those men sent out to look for Alfred's brother today, to see where he was and what he was doing. And he'd have to look into getting Alfred a new pair of glasses. He sighed softly, rubbing his arm.

Alfred didn't trust him anymore.

His breath hitched at the thought, painful, that Alfred didn't trust him. But he remembered the doctors words. Alfred was a likely victim of tilt. Tilt was something that was now completely illegal, inhumane. It had been discovered during the Great War, as a method of making prisoners fight on behalf of their captors. However, it ended miserably. While about 50% of the victims of tilt would accomplish their "goal"- assassination, spy missions…they would ultimately break under the strain of the mental manipulation, and an overwhelming majority committed suicide. Today, only about 5% of the victims were still alive, in asylums and assisted living facilities. The victims were in their 50s and 60s now, as the Great War had been at the start of his fathers reign as king.

Another thought hit him, one as equally disturbing. Alfred's "mission"…had been to kill Arthur.

Undoubtedly, it hadn't been ready, since Alfred hadn't been strong enough physically to go through with it. He had been in the process of being groomed to do so…when his father had died, most likely. Arthur was to be killed by his own lover, by his fathers orders. Had Alfred managed, there wouldn't have been any investigation on what happened while he was in prison, and the old King would have undoubtedly sired a new heir.

Everything Arthur had done was based off a Dark Bet, based off his scrying magic that told him the best solution was to murder the King. He hadn't been in the know of anything that was going on around him, and somehow, he wound up killing his father before his father had killed him- a lucky move on Arthur's part. It meant that there was still a chance that he and Alfred could make it out alive on the other side.

Alfred heard movement, and so roused himself out of defensiveness, groggily opening his eye to stare, and tensing reflexively. But, it was only Arthur, looking disheveled. Like he had been sleeping…there was bedding nearby, so it was a likely theory. "Ahhh..." He murmured, slowly sitting up, and decided to wrap the blanket around him, trying feebly to get warm despite how his left arm wasn't able to move, a dull pang throughout the useless limb. After growing frustrated with his inability to get the blanket sufficiently around him, he lay back down on his side, watching Arthur with his one good eye. He was tentative to speak, but there was something in him that hoped Arthur would speak up instead.

Arthur watched him attempt to pull the blanket up around himself, and the irritated look on his face as he gave up and went back to lying down on the bed. The queen was similarly quiet, not sure of what to say as he rested on the pillows.

"Good morning then." Arthur eventually decided to speak, since Alfred didn't look like he was going to any time soon. He was rewarded when Alfred perked up a bit in response to his voice. "How are you feeling this morning?" He asked, figuring it was a neutral question, pulling his own blanket up some. Arthur wasn't precisely well rested, but he was feeling a little more centered. Hopefully that would help.

"Like I was tortured." Alfred dully replied, though the words lacked any malice. "I hurt, but it's not as bad as it usually is. More like a dull ache than anything." He explained. "...I didn't have any nightmares last night." He admitted. "I feel...more rested." Alfred blinked, before shivering. "And cold."

He smiled weakly, seeing as Alfred wasn't acting aggressive or overly depressed. "Well, the bit about the nightmares is good to hear…and I'll have the staff prepare to heat the place a bit more." Arthur stated, shifting to get up. He took the blanket from his bed and brought it over, moving slowly to avoid startling him. "Here, this should, uhm, help warm you up." He offered, stopping a step or two from the bed with the blanket, holding it out where he thought Alfred could grab it.

Alfred frowned a bit, looking at him tiredly. "Arthur..." He mumbled, not reaching out to take the blanket. "I'm sorry." He murmured. "I'm sorry- about a lot of things... I shouldn't have been angry with you...shouldn't have said those things to you. You didn't…well, you didn't deserve to be spoken to like that."

Arthur watched him for another minute before looking down at the blanket. "It's… it's alright Alfred. I, I said some terrible things myself. I would never hurt you, I mean it, and I reacted terribly when you need my help. I'm sorry for that." He looked up again. "Is it alright if I put this over you?"

"Seeing as I can't move right now..." He agreed with a touch of sarcasm, trying to downplay his current weakness, before reminding himself this was  _Arthur._ This was  _real_. He licked his lips, before he expanded his explanation. "I can't sit up again, I'm… actually in a lot of pain. Adrenaline, I think, is what's been pushing me, and now it's not there anymore." Alfred looked at him, and he nodded. "I'm so sorry, Arthur... if this  _is_  real, then what have I done? I've dreamt of this so many times, I don't want it to be real, since I feel like I fucked up..."

Arthur walked over the last step, and draped the blanket over him. "It's alright, Alfred. You haven't messed anything up." He corrected the cursing lightly. "You spent all those years alone and hurt and never knowing really what all was real. It's going to be okay though. You're going to be okay." He sat down in the chair and folded his hands on his lap, not sure if Alfred wanted him to touch him currently.

Alfred nodded as he chewed on that piece of information, pulling his legs into his chest, still trying to get warmer. "...Tell me about how its gone for you." Alfred mumbled, voice soft. "All my hallucinations and nightmares- well... tell me how it's gone for you." He said, clearly wanting to "test" Arthur over something, looking intently at him.

Arthur watched him a moment before he realized what Alfred was probably looking for. "It's, well it was terrible for a time. Father and I argued a lot, over how he was handling things. I think, I think he was starting to lose his mind but I wasn't sure, he'd always been short tempered..." He looked down a moment. "I've a scar of my own now, across the back of my left shoulder where he struck me with the dinner knife. I, suppose that had been a terrible time to try to talk to him. Mostly I've just focused myself on my studies, on preparing to take the throne, trying to learn how to find he true king since, people fake it often…" He rubbed his arm a bit. "I spent half a year in the Diamond kingdom. Learning about their culture a bit, their way of ruling and such… but mostly just, me trying to get away from what was happening at home. King Francis was wonderfully polite and didn't pry much…thank goodness..." Arthur looked back at Alfred now, smiling faintly. "His, 'reporters', though…they were horribly pushy. There was one woman who repeatedly badgered me about how Father was some "King David" from the war. I don't understand how he manages freedom of the press so well."

Alfred was blank as he listened, and he nodded once Arthur was finished speaking. Then he attempted to wrestle his good hand out from the covers, and only ended up getting his useless limb in a bad spot. "Can you help me?" He was embarrassed, and tried not to let on just how much he needed the help. "I'm...I'm stuck- I can't move my hand." He coughed. "Please...I want to…comfort you." He said, slowly. "You're...real, I think..." Alfred blinked, tears falling- but the action seemed to surprise even Alfred.

Arthur paused in surprise, before he moved closer to help Alfred get himself more comfortable. He then took his left hand.

"You didn't say anything about...about finding a better lover, than I was." Alfred admitted, Arthur smiled sadly at how quiet, how scared the words were.

"No- god no, Alfred… I hadn't even thought to look. Admittedly there was this fellow, Antonio was his name… he was part of the Diamond court, and he… _well;_  he was rather fetching. However, I've never seriously thought about taking another lover." He smiled sadly. "Honestly I was…I was  _terrified_  of having to find the new king. I didn't know who they'd be, and the knowledge of who ever it turned out to be… having to  _touch_  me in the way they would have to…it disgusted me." He told him, being honest with him about it. "It was only ever you I could trust. You were the only one I had ever learned to love like that." He smiled at his hands. "I was truthful when I spoke yesterday, Alfred. I  _do_  still love you…"

Alfred looked calmed, sated with the knowledge; seeming to settle as Arthur talked it over, going through his thoughts on the subject. Maybe he had started to gain Alfred's trust-in that this wasn't a dream.

The guilt in Arthur's mind that his lover had likely been a victim of tilt was powerful, but Alfred looked willing to relax, and almost like he wanted to hold Arthur- though the thought was ridiculous. Alfred's left shoulder was essentially broken, for heavens' sake.

But then, Alfred urged his left hand to work, and Arthur felt the feeble attempt to squeeze his hand from the mostly useless limb, drawing his attention from Arthur's darkening thoughts. The feeling was so slight, so faint, but it made his heart skip a beat. It meant that it was possible Alfred could regain the use of that arm… He rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb and smiled a little more honestly now. "Is there anything I can get you, love?"

Alfred shook his head, his face not quite a smile, but it was far, far softer than before. He looked happier, even though it wasn't yet "happy". "Maybe some food..." Alfred requested, uncertain of what he wanted, but he knew he was hungry. "I missed you..." He admitted, slowly. "I was so scared, that they would hurt you, or Matthew- at first, at least..." Alfred trailed off for a moment as he remembered. "Towards the end, it got much worse...there was a long while- maybe only a bit before his death- where torture got so bad that...I just couldn't handle it. You and him were the culprits, but I think it was from all the drugs they were injecting in me..." He tried to move his left hand again. "I think…that's actually why my left arm is like this...they damaged the nerves, I think..." His voice was soft, tired, and non-confrontational. He looked admittedly still half-asleep, and was probably still doped up on the medication, and Arthur remembered belatedly that Alfred had only woken because he had moved and startled the injured man.

Alfred's eye drooped so that they were half-lidded. "S' why it took me so long...to find out he was dead... I wasn't even... _conscious_  when it first came round...that he was. S' when the torture stopped, that's all I know..." His left hand twitched, trying to grip Arthur's hand. "S' why I came to kill you... I thought you were apart of it, I was being driven by that..."

Arthur rubbed the back of Alfred's hand with his thumb a bit and listened. It was terrible, his things his father had done and even still he couldn't help feel guilty. They'd used  _him_  against Alfred, twisted it and made think he didn't want him, didn't love him, and ultimately made Arthur become the image of who was hurting him. Arthur nodded, smiling faintly as Alfred tried to squeeze his hand again. He took a moment to call in a servant, asking them to fetch something for heir breakfast.

"Well, I can tell you a few things, and others… well. I don't think you want to know all the grisly details yet. For one, your shoulder is broken, and that's why your arm is like that. It was actually most likely broken when you pulled the chains out of the ground, not by anything that happened during torture."

He left out the part about the suspected tilt experiments. He wasn't going to get into that ball of wax any time soon, since it would only cause Alfred mental duress to know he had been hurt like that. Instead, he switched topics, to continue with his story.

"I wanted to come free you sooner, but it took so long to arrange everything, the funeral…and then the coronation. There were so many things the advisers wanted to go over. I wasn't even sure you were still  _alive_ , until I found the papers in my fathers desk that confirmed your position. And then I had to undo all of the orders for your imprisonment to release you." It had been impossible to go to the prison while the old king was alive. It was constantly watched, guarded and kept far out of his reach anyway. "Your arm seems to want to cooperate with you at least." He added with a reassuring look, tempted to lean down and kiss Alfred's forehead like he would when the then-soldier would lay his head on his lap. But he didn't.

Alfred looked soothed by the admittance. He was completely unable to pull Arthur down against him, his left hand barely able to move and his right curled up in the covers, trying to keep warm. But Alfred, with all of his stubbornness, tried anyway. He attempted to pull his left hand down, trying to grip Arthur and pull him, but the arm remained straight, and his fingers twitched as they refused to cooperate. He whined lowly, words abandoning him, as he grew dazed. His one eye begged Arthur for comfort, and for a reminder that he wasn't locked away in prison anymore. Alfred's mind didn't process the fact once he snapped out of this and woke up, he'd still be nervous and afraid. He was mindlessly seeking the companionship that his heart had missed, so, so much, and the person he had so desperately loved, and hung onto was right here. If this was a dream, was it so bad to indulge? But, if it was a dream, then why wasn't his body working?

Arthur watched him a moment, unsure what more he could do for him. He ran his fingers along his arm a bit before looking back at him face, startled by the expression he saw there. "Would you, would you like me to lay with you?" He asked softly, shifting so he could get into the bed with him as well if Alfred seemed to like the idea.

Alfred nodded, curling up. "Please..." He mumbled, "Please, show me that I'm not there anymore..." His words were faint, but he was calmer than he had been at any other point. "I want...I want you with me..." He confessed, his hand dropping uselessly, and Alfred frowned at it, as it flopped to the side.

Arthur nodded and shifted a bit, still moving carefully, not wanting to startle Alfred by moving too quickly now that he had gotten Alfred's approval to lay in bed with him. He pulled back the covers some and eased himself onto the bed. Then, pulling the covers over them, Arthur settled so that he could hold Alfred- a little tricky since Alfred was still the bigger of them both- and also keep them both comfortable. But once it was done, Arthur gave into the urge, and kissed his forehead. "I'm here Alfred."

Alfred smiled, very, very happy with the familiar action, and relaxed before falling back asleep. "I'll keep you safe." Arthur whispered to his sleeping king. "Even though I couldn't before…I will now. I won't fail."

Some time later, doctors came in and suggested that it could be beneficial if Arthur established trust with his king, to ease his suffering with the tilt. Though they were working out how to get the most respected doctor on the issue to Spades to give Alfred a proper diagnosis, in the meantime Alfred needed someone to trust, to remind him that this was reality.

"Now, we're bringing in breakfast- I think you should be the one to wake him." The doctor suggested, and left the room. At the door there were servants carrying food in, and they set it down a fair distance so as not to disturb Alfred. The king was gladly cuddled against Arthur's chest, his right hand gripping him lightly...it couldn't be that hard to wake him, right?

Arthur was a little worried about waking him so soon after he'd fallen asleep, wondering if it better to just let him rest a bit. It was important that he eat something, and Alfred had said he felt hungry before. "Alfred?" He murmured, petting his hair a bit. "Alfred, breakfast is here, you should eat something..." He explained, shifting a bit to try and wake him without scaring him.

Alfred's eye opened slowly, feeling warmer than before and he gripped that warmth tight with his good hand. He heard a soft voice calling his name, and opened his eye to see what was going on. He saw Arthur's face, and gripped the soft warmth tighter as he buried his face in it in fear, before he realized...he was holding onto Arthur. "Oh..." Alfred breathed, slowly looking back up to Arthur, still tightly gripping Arthur's shirt. "Oh, you're...here?" He mumbled as he looked to the chair, and reoriented himself- Arthur had taken him into the castle, he'd woken up a few times now. And, apparently he was the King of Spades. "Well... alright. Food?" He asked, recalling Arthur saying something about that. He was nervous about being so close, but he wasn't strong enough- physically or emotionally- to pull himself away from Arthur.

Arthur just held still as Alfred took a moment. "Yes, I'm here- breakfast is as well. You should eat something." He said shifting just a bit but not pulling away. "You mentioned you were hungry, so I had something made for us to eat." It was nice o be able to be so close to him again, though he wished he could just heal him faster, so at the very least his physical wounds wouldn't hurt him. So that Alfred wouldn't look so hurt, so scared all the time.

Alfred didn't seem to mind the wounds at the moment, sitting up with Arthur's assistance, more just physically weak at the moment... Or, since Alfred had previously told him that he was in a lot of pain… perhaps he was just ignoring them to get by. "Breakfast sounds good..." Alfred eventually agreed, sounding more willing to cooperate today than he had been in the past.

Arthur gave a small smile of relief, and motioned for the servants to bring breakfast in to them. He settled beside Alfred, staying as close as he was able without being in the way of him being able to eat. Leaning over though he pressed a light, quick kiss to Alfred's shoulder.

Alfred nodded, letting Arthur soothe him and finding the motion like a balm to his tattered thoughts. Arthur was here. Arthur was helping. He wiggled his right arm up, and went to eat breakfast, happy to see the filling meal that he needed to start putting weight on. He was very skinny- starved, really. He didn't mind, just wanted to feel better, and he was right now. He didn't mind if this was a dream, if it was, it was very happy... But, he wasn't sure if it was a dream. In his dreams, he hadn't ever been king...so, perhaps this was real.

Arthur accepted his own meal, glad to see Alfred was willing to eat- happy to, even. "I was thinking..." He said, just to fill the silence with something. "That we could get you fitted for glasses today, or tomorrow if you like. It's something we can do for you while you're still on bed rest."

Alfred blinked at him, remembering that he could see better if he had glasses on. "O-oh, well." He bit his lip. "If you want to fit me for my eye, you're going to have to undo the bandages over the bad one." He said, gesturing to the left side of his face as he nibbled on the meat in his breakfast meal. "Other than that...well, I can't say what it'd do... But whatever you want to do, I'm fine with...I can't move very well, though."

Arthur nodded some. "I'll talk with the doctor about it. I was hoping that maybe being able to see a little better would help some."

Alfred nodded, eating what he could, before he was full and could do so no longer. He leaned back against Arthur and rested, collecting his chaotic thoughts to try and establish what was going to happen to him. "So, if I'm king, what does that mean?" Alfred eventually asked, worry leaking into his question. "I mean, I was popular as a soldier, but...it's been years."

Arthur startled a little when Alfred leaned against him, but he hid the smile that followed, secretly pleased. Since he had finished as well, he ordered the servants to take the food off the bed and set it aside for now. He patted Alfred's arm lightly and leaned back with him a bit. "As King, you would mostly have power over matters of foreign policy, as it is the Queen who is the head of domestic politics. When only one royal is ruling, they have power over all these matters. But, I'm sure you haven't been forgotten. I'm sure as well that most of the people don't believe the lies father spread about you." He left out the outcries, the rebellions, the outside judgment on the arrest and imprisonment of the man, seeing as Alfred didn't need to overload on information like that yet.

"I hope you're right." Alfred murmured, tentative to agree with him on this issue- he had been outed as a rag card before his imprisonment. He felt it would have been easy to imagine him as a traitor to the throne, since he had lied about his place in Spades. "I really do..." He was awake, but unsure of what else to do, calmed and fed and rested. "Mmm…surely, you have things you need to do?" He eventually pointed out, looking to him for answers. "You've sat with me for a few days, wasn't it the day of your coronation when I arrived?"

He was surprised that Alfred had remembered it, but nodded in agreement. "There are a few things I need to look over. One of them is the treaty we've drafted with the Clubs Kingdom. Trade and other things like that. It's not anything absolutely urgent, though." He hummed, trying to find a way to word this so Alfred didn't blame himself for needing so much assistance. "The coronation was finished by the time I excused myself to linger in the garden for some fresh air, where you found me."

Alfred nodded in understanding, frowning quietly. "Ah...alright." He agreed, looking away. "I assume Clubs is...amicable to a treaty?" He asked, vaguely remembering the war between Spades and Clubs- with him as the face of the Spades army.

"So far the negotiations have been going well. They have a new set of Royals, much like we do. Their new King is much more interested in finding peace, than his predecessors."

Then Alfred threw him left field. "Do they know I'm alive?"

He was quiet for a moment, but then he shook his head. "No. They haven't asked, and I didn't feel information referring to you was relevant at the time of our last meeting. Additionally, I didn't know you were alive then, so I wouldn't have been able to answer had they asked."

Alfred nodded once more, looking rather thoughtful as he leaned into Arthur, sated with that answer. "Who is arranging the treaty…us, or them?" He asked, not knowing how the war ended since he had been imprisoned partway through it, and had escaped after its conclusion. "How did it end?" His blue eye went to look at Arthur, and he suppressed a groan, his body throbbing dully. He liked distractions from the pain he was in.

"Well, We lost a lot of ground after father turned on you. About a year ago the new king of Clubs came into power and just a month or so after Father fell ill we lost the war." Arthur gripped the blankets a little tighter at the thought. "King Ivan and his court have been rather fair to us, all things considered. We've been negotiating the amount of land we would be surrendering, and there will be a few changes in trade- but, it isn't very terrible a loss in that manner, all things considered."

Alfred growled, deep in his chest. " _Fuck_ , I hate your father." He said, bitter. "I was  _winning_  him his stupid war, and he still did this...?" He muttered angrily. "Arthur... I'm sorry." He mumbled, upset. "That's a shit way to begin a reign..."

"It's alright. You've every right to be angry at him- just don't get mad at yourself for what happened, since you couldn't have helped this." He rested his hand on Alfred's arm to reassure him that he wasn't to blame. "The important thing is there are new leaders on both sides at the end of it. Things would be far worse if either my father or Ivan's were still alive."

"Ivan..." Alfred said, thoughtful. "I think I knew him...or at least, of him." He was glad to talk about this. "Thick accent, large, burly man?" Alfred specified, looking to Arthur for answers with his one eye. "If so, I think we at least respected each other on a warrior level- perhaps, perhaps I should talk to him..." He said, before standing suddenly, his gaze distant as he attempted to walk.

"That's him yes." Arthur answered, startling when Alfred stood before he could stop him. Arthur jumped to his feet and gripped his arm to try and keep him still. "Alfred wait. You're not well enough to be walking, come back to the bed."

"It would be nice, to see him." Alfred paused, not seeming to be listening to Arthur. "Well, that's ironic to say... But, I meant it in the colloquial sense. It would be nice to discuss war terms, and...and, perhaps, reveal me as the king. To be something important again, and not a prisoner." He staggered, ignoring his throbbing pain everywhere as he thought back to the war, his face going slack as his thoughtful words became mutterings. Eventually, he looked about ready to collapse altogether, teetering to one side suspiciously.

As Alfred had begun to babble a little nonsensically, Arthur took the chance by gripping his hand, and attempted to guide him back toward the bed. He motioned for the doctors to be close in case Alfred needed help and Arthur wasn't enough to hold him.

Alfred was easily convinced to get back off his feet, leaning against Arthur as he gripped him tightly, feeling faint and tilting, his knees wobbling. "Ahh...Arthur..." He mumbled, voice quiet. "Ahh..." He gripped the other tightly with his right hand, but his knees buckled and gave in, causing Alfred to collapse against the bed, doctors surrounding them in order to help Arthur pick up the dead weight.

The king didn't much like the sudden swarming, and he responded with feeble struggles- not enough to really get anywhere, but just enough to make a nuisance of himself to irritated staff.

"Sir, if you don't stay down, we  _will_  restrain you." One of the nurses ordered, rather callously, and Alfred froze in panic.

"No." Arthur corrected her sharply, and frowned heavily. "That will not be necessary- nor will it be allowed." He put his hand over where hers was touching Alfred, glaring. "Alfred is not a prisoner. He is your  _King_. And he will not be restrained like some  _animal_  under my watch."

The nurse whipped her hand off of Alfred, and Arthur took note of which nurse had spoken, planning on giving her a notice later on.

"It's alright, Alfred." Arthur added, reaching over to hold his left hand, leaving his right free as the man had asked of Arthur before. "I would very much appreciate if none of you made idle threats to restrain him. I will not tolerate it." He'd just have to be firmer about telling Alfred that he needed to rest, but he wouldn't  _force_  him down- and he certainly wouldn't restrain the poor man.

Alfred whimpered, but let Arthur comfort him, staring around at everyone with shrunken pupils and wide eyes. There were too many people to fight…too many people... He took in a short, panicked breath, and started to hyperventilate. He was surrounded, he and Arthur, he couldn't protect himself, let alone Arthur if this went bad- and he wasn't  _able_  to fight either...he wasn't  _safe_...too many people... As it turned out, his thoughts were being spoken aloud. "Too many...too  _many_...not safe, not safe..."

Arthur glared sharply at the medical staff, motioning for them to leave the room. "If we need  _anything-_  I expect only the doctor and one nurse to enter from now on." Arthur ordered snappishly, rubbing Alfred's arm to help calm him. They left in a tizzy, and Alfred grumbled in exasperation. Damn them- didn't they realize that Alfred was still their king, no matter what sort of state he was in at the moment.

"It's alright,  _love_ …" Arthur crooned softly, cradling Alfred as he sat on the edge of the bed. "You're safe now, I won't let any one hurt you, darling… I  _promise_." Arthur whispered sincerely, rocking the man slowly. "Alfred,  _Alfred_ , please look at me, it's alright."

Alfred looked at him with his one eye, thoroughly miserable as he finally was given space and allowed to lie down without fear of attack or ambush. "Arthur..." He murmured, sad, upset that he was so easily set off, but also unable to stop his racing heartbeat. He leaned against Arthur, putting his ear on his chest, trying to listen to Arthur's heartbeat, and calm down, attempting to match his steady breathing and relax, his eye focused on Arthur, his right hand gripping his shirt tightly. "Sorry... Sorry..."

"It's alright, I've got you." He whispered, rubbing his back and holding him. "You've nothing to be sorry for." Arthur smiled a little and nuzzled the top of his head. "Take as long as you need my love."

Alfred nodded, trying to regulate his breathing, and also trying desperately to get a grip on himself, but he felt like he was trying to hold onto water, his entire being seeming to fade in and out of his control, and the feeling was absolutely horrifying. Instead of focusing on himself, he focused sharply on the hand on his back and the affectionate nuzzle. Arthur, Arthur was here. He thought to himself. "I's okay..." He slurred, allowing his thoughts to slow down from the whirlwind they had been moments before. "Arthur's here..."

"I'm here." He repeated when he heard Alfred speak again. He ran his fingers through Alfred's hair and hummed softly. After a moment he nuzzled the top of his head again and closed his eyes. "You're okay."

He took in a deep, shuddering breath, and allowed himself to calm down, his thoughts trailing to a stop, focusing on Arthur and how Arthur was comforting him. "Kay..." He said, and relaxed fully, seeming to have slipped into daydreams, his gaze unfocused as the main doctor came back in to check on them both, apologizing for the nurse's comment as he inspected how aware Alfred was, being incredibly non-threatening around him.

Arthur nodded as the doctor spoke, informing him he would prefer that nurse be given other tasks for the time being. Arthur didn't want her treating Alfred while he was injured like he was. He let the doctor examine Alfred some, talking to Alfred as the doctor did and tell him what was happening while it was. When the doctor was finished Arthur shifted a bit, picking up the glass of water, "Here Alfred, drink this for me love."

Alfred was obedient, more than willing to sit up and sip the water like Arthur wanted him to. "It looks like he tuckered himself out." The doctor noted. "Not that it's not surprising he did, but it is better to keep him calm. I'll be coming in shortly to test his eyesight, for now, he seems to be enjoying you talking to him." The doctor noted Alfred's small smile and half-lidded stare with his right eye. "And, we'll need to change bandages on him."

Arthur nodded as he watched asked drink. "Thank you doctor. I'll do what I can." He took the glass when Alfred was done and set it aside. "Come on asked, lay with me here, let's get you comfortable alright?" He helped him lay back against the pillows and settled there with him. "Would you like a story?" Something to fill the silence that wouldn't rile him up.

"Mmm..." He hummed, leaning against him. "Stay where I can see you." Alfred mumbled. "But...yes." He agreed, "Anything's fine..." He was more than happy to have Arthur with him, against him, his smile barely there, but it was there. It was a notable improvement, since Alfred seemed to finally be accepting this as real. He wasn't there anymore- Arthur was here...Arthur was protecting them both, and Alfred could rest...

"Yes, don't fret about that, my love- I will." Arthur said with a smile. He held his hand and settled, relaxing with him on the bed and thinking it over a moment. "Long ago there was a small village far to the south…."

XXXXX

As his story came to a close, Alfred was dozing, and had leaned into Arthur, his good eye slightly open. It was slow work, and Alfred seemed to need to sleep so much, but the doctor had explained it as recovering from all the sleeplessness he had faced in the prison, during torture. Sleep deprivation was a likely torture device used against him. So Arthur let him get away with it, kissing his forehead and relaxing.

"I love you, Alfred." He whispered, rubbing the man's back and smiling. "You've always made me happy. You're persistent and hard headed, but you weren't ever turned away by my bitter attitude." Arthur chuckled as he remembered meeting the man. "I'm happy that you're my king." Alfred smiled dreamily, letting Arthur do as he pleased.

A minute later, the doctor knocked to alert them to his walking into the room. "Hello, Arthur, Alfred. I'd like to test Alfred's eyesight and change his bandages now. Is that okay?" He directed that last bit to Alfred, the doctor trying to be open and nonthreatening with the young man.

Alfred paused, gripping Arthur tighter, looking to him for help.

Arthur smiled reassuringly. "I'll be right here." He promised, and Alfred swallowed, before nodding at the doctor, relaxing to the best of his ability.

The doctor then came closer, and removed the bandages first, rubbing ointment on the healing infections, and checking on the areas they had stitched up. Arthur helped where he could, and was very glad that Alfred had relaxed considerably. Secretly, he was overjoyed that Alfred seemed to trust him now.

As the doctor did his work, Alfred slowed down and relaxed the rest of the way. He had entirely worn himself out, and was now too tired to think about much besides Arthur, his mind frayed from the torture and sudden changes. "Ahhh... I love you too…forgot to say." He slurred, as Arthur reapplied bandages to the worst of the damage, and the doctor inspected his eyes.

The doctor took out a flashlight, and flashed it in both his useless left eye and damaged right. "Love you, hnnn..." He mumbled again, not liking the light shone in either eye much, wincing particularly at the invading light in the left, which had been covered for many years.

"Looks like he has more vision than we first thought." The doctor noted. "He needs to get a lot of this cleaned up, but he might be able to regain some of his vision in even his left eye, since he can detect light with it."

Arthur had since finished wrapping the bandages around his feet, and stroked his hair from where he was leaning against the edge of the bed. He sighed in relief at the wonderful news. "That's good. I'm glad to hear that." He squeezed Alfred's hand lightly, before directing his attention to the doctor. "I think it's best he get some sleep now. Is there anything else you need to check on at this time?"

The man shook his head. "At this point, I can only recommend 3 meals a day, and a bath tomorrow, we're going to have to be very careful with the eyes, but we'll make an attempt to clean it out, give him back some more of his sight. We need someone more knowledgeable in the realm of tilt to look at his cognitive symptoms, and give him a treatment plan for it."

Arthur sighed softly at the reminder that they couldn't help that aspect, but helped Alfred lay back down on the bed, pulling the covers up and over the freshly bandaged king.

"And, your majesty- the Jack is requesting you go see him. It's about releasing a statement about why you're busy and why you canceled the rest of the coronation festivities. We have not told him that you have the king in our care, since that is up to you, your highness." The doctor relayed the message as he put the light back in his pocket.

"Right of course. I'll do that today while he's sleeping." For now it was probably best to keep Alfred's name among those in the castle until he was well enough to be brought around the Kingdoms - but he should at  _least_  announce the king had been found. He stood and rubbed his temples.

The queen felt a small tug on his sleeve, and he smiled affectionately. "I'll be back soon Alfred, get some rest alright?" He pat the man's hand after he pulled his sleeve out of Alfred's grip.

Alfred agreed quietly, closing his eyes and letting himself unwind, more than willing to be coaxed back into sleep, the nurse administering the sleep aid under doctors orders.

Seeing the blue eye close once more, Arthur ordered everyone leave, as he lingered a little longer, watching Alfred sleep for a moment, before he too walked out and shut the door on the king.

XXXXX

"Jack Yao is in his office." The head maid directed Arthur, smiling at him. "He's been waiting for you."

With a huff, Arthur made his way down the halls and to Yao's office. Straightening his rumpled clothes as best he could, he knocked on the door to alert his Jack to his presence, before opening it. "I heard you were waiting for me then." He said stepping inside and clearing his throat.

"Of course I have. You've been in the infirmary for the last 3 days." Yao reminded him with a frown. "I expect a good answer as to why, and hopefully just as good as an explanation as to why the festivities of the coronation were ended so soon? It was rather rude to all the nobles and traveling royalty." The man said, raising an eyebrow in poorly masked displeasure.

Arthur sat down with irritation. "I've been in the infirmary with the  _King_." He said simply. "He's badly injured, physically and mentally. And I felt it was more important to tend to him."

He took a bit of vindictive pleasure as the Jack stared at him, floored by the confession of why he had been in the infirmary. Yao laughed a single laugh, humorlessly. "No kidding." He muttered, in disbelief. "And so? Who is our King?" He asked, staring at Arthur keenly, waiting to hear the name of a noble or something similar, undoubtedly.

Arthur fidgeted with his sleeve a bit as he prepared himself for Yao's upset following the knowledge of the king. He took a deep breath, deciding to rip it off like a Band-Aid. "The new King of Spades is none other than Alfred F. Jones, Yao. You remember him, I'm sure."

"The rag card solider?" The Jack blinked, rubbing his temples suddenly. "Well, that explains some things, and complicates others. I had just been informed that he had escaped his prison, and it was one of the things I had been meaning to talk with you about that." Yao looked to Arthur for another explanation, clearly perplexed.

"I suppose sometime before or during the coronation and the following festivities he broke out of the Northern prison and made his way here. I found him in the garden, moments before I called off the remainder of the coronation." For good reason, he left out the part where Alfred tried to kill him, at least for the moment.

Yao grimaced as he thought it over. "Well. Alfred, as I'm sure you realize, is a popular, internationally recognized figure. He's known both domestically and abroad for being branded as a traitor by his king, and then thrown in prison. People in Spades rioted in protest to his imprisonment! And now, in a moment of some sort of sick, divine justice? He's now the  _king_? And that must mean that you have seen his tattoo, and believe him!" The man exclaimed, before sighing in resignation, trying to make sense of this. "I suppose that he could not fake the tattoo with what has happened to him, but still..."

"Yes, I've seen it." Arthur confirmed. "It's nearly identical to mine, with a few additions. It's located on his left shoulder." He paused, before he decided it wouldn't harm them to inform Yao just how damaged their new king was. "There's no way he would have been able to fake it, let alone put it there. He has a large blind spot on his left side. He can't see his left shoulder, let alone the tattoo." Arthur sighed a little and rubbed his arm. "He…when he showed up, he had no idea that he  _was_  the king."

"Then why did he come?" Yao asked, suddenly confused. "Why would he escape, only to come back to the Castle?"

The Queen grumbled. "He…well. He came to kill me." He said, and Yao looked bewildered.

"And you kept him in the medical wing?" He gaped at the blonde, before Arthur explained.

"Alfred was, at some point in his time in prison, tortured into becoming tilted." Arthur couldn't meet Yao's shocked gaze. "And from Alfred's words on what happened… I can only think that the person who did it, was none other than my father, the late King of Spades."

Yao stared, before standing and grabbing a few things. "That's…not entirely out of the question." The Jack admitted. "When I was first found, I was assigned to clean out the old Jack's things. I found a good deal of items that were…well." He coughed, looking unsure of how to word his next statement. " _Unsavory_  for many members of the court of Spades. I found records of tilt experiments, conducted before and  _after_  the international ban was set in place." He rubbed his temples.

"Either way." Arthur sagged. "We don't have any doctors trained to treat tilt. Alfred doesn't even realize that that's what happened to him, yet. The doctors have contacted a doctor that they know has a history in researching tilt, but we've not heard back yet…"

"How is he now?" The Jack asked, out of concern for their King- even if he wasn't precisely an  _ideal_  choice, he was the King that the Ace of Spades had chosen for them, and marked with the symbol on his shoulder.

Arthur sagged, tired as he reported on his current behavior. "He's calm and mostly relaxed for now but I'd rather not be far from him. Especially if he wakes and is confronted with unfamiliar faces until he'd well enough to be out of bed. He…he is unstable. Sometimes he's almost like how he used to be, and others…he's aggressive, and angry. Others still, he's empty and depressed. And it's frustrating, since I can't help him, other than to simply try and be there for him."

After a moment of quiet he spoke again. "If it wouldn't be hard on you, I could easily do my work from the hospital wing, while he rests."

Yao's frown deepened. "Goodness... well, I won't stop you from being with him. As for the rest of it… I'd recommend making a statement- About the King being found and such, on the night of the coronation. However, that begs the question- who is the king? And will you tell the masses, or will they either figure it out or claim to know, through gossip or rumors?" The Jack asked, frowning. "My Queen, I leave that decision to you, but I  _must_  warn you- they  _will_  want know who the new King is, and they will want to see him, no matter what state he is in."

Arthur nodded. "I'll write up the announcement today, and make arrangements for a public statement. Likely at that event, I'll have to make arrangements for people to meet the new king…but I need to think about how to go about doing that." He stood then, running a hand through his hair. "I need you to arrange for his brother to be located. I promised Alfred I would find out what became of him."

Yao agreed, muttering about extra work as he wrote that bit down. "Make certain to talk with the man, if you can, about... ground rules, regarding people seeing him. I wouldn't want to be paraded about like a show pony after breaking out of a prison where I was brutally tortured, and  _tilted_ , for gods sake." The Jack muttered. "I can find Alfred's old military records, find out about any family." He offered, before waving his hand and sitting back down at his desk. "Get back to him, then. It sounds like it's going to be rather hectic, very soon, for us all."

The Queen nodded before he left the room, wanting to hurry back to the infirmary to check on Alfred. Hopefully he was still resting- since Arthur hadn't been gone long at all.

The Jack was right, though. Things were about to be very hectic, very soon.

XXXXX

(Excerpt taken from the Introduction of  _A History of Magic in Spades_ , authored by Vladimir Popescu of Clubs, Professor of History at the University of Clubs.)

"…Magic is something that we all know only Spades is skilled in, to the point that other Kingdoms desire traitors to give them insight into how it works. However, as most Spades citizens know, traitors to the Kingdom find themselves suddenly unable to use any sort of magic except the very basic forms of household magic. It is almost as though the Kingdom protects itself by draining the one skill it is known for out of traitors.

When I first began research on why Spades had such skill in something that no other Kingdom can even manage, I kept hitting what I then thought would be a dead end. And this was, a children's story extremely popularized in Spades, one that is very little known in any of the other kingdoms. Frustrated in how I had found nothing else, (though, admittedly, it has been hard to research given the state of war Spades and Clubs has been in for the past several years), I decided to read the story.

The story is technically an origin story for the Kingdom system rather than any explanation of magic, so I will be brief with most of the story. In its essence, there were once 5 individuals who were the best of friends, who were the "founders" of 5 Kingdoms, Spades, Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, and a strange, additional suit named "Stars", that is not mentioned anywhere else in written history.

It is told that these 5 individuals, named identically to the Kingdom that they controlled, one day met a mysterious goddess, and they rescued her from certain death from the "evil of the world"- admittedly, a crude translation, for the word is not one that I can find anywhere other than the original texts of Spadian.

In return, the Goddess promised these rulers each a power that the others could not lay claim to. Hearts, the eldest and bravest, who had put his own sword in front of the Goddess to defend her, received his wish first. He asked to be the most powerful- with the most loyal and skilled troops, the best tactics, and the most innate gifts for the military.

Diamonds, who had found the way to imprison the evil and keep the Goddess safe for an eternity, asked for her citizens to be the most innovative, the most skilled in technology, science, math, theory, and philosophy.

Clubs went next, unwilling to be beaten out of all intelligence, the man who had studied the evil in such a way that he had made possible for the others to know how to accomplish what they did, asked that his citizens to always be the most knowledgeable, and the wisest- to be the best in history, medicine, economics, and other human sciences.

Stars was tentative to put her desire before Spades, but the other woman allowed it gladly, telling her friend to take what she desired from what remained, and so Stars wished for her citizens to be the most creative- the most gifted in the arts and literature.

And now, Diamonds laughed at Spades folly- for what was left for the remaining woman. Innovation, Power, Creativity, and knowledge had all been taken from her, and the Goddess had been clear in that no two of them could wish for the same thing.

But Spades, the sly woman that had tricked the Darkness into falling for Diamonds trap, only smiled, and she asked of the Goddess that she be granted with the power to be a fate-changer. Shocked, the other Rulers begged the Goddess to not give Spades magic, but the Goddess simply reminded them that Spades had not spoken out against them taking power, intelligence, creativity, or knowledge from her, and had allowed herself to go last. And so, the Goddess bestowed upon the first Queen of Spades and her people the gift of magic- the power to change destiny.

Admittedly, the story is awfully truthful in many ways. The story goes on to say that Stars and Hearts would marry their kingdoms, and this would cause the world to go to war over the sudden imbalance in the world. The "gifts" that the rulers wished for have striking parallels to what each kingdom is known for as well, though it leads to other questions- for one, why is the story only well known in Spades, and two, how does this influence how the gift of magic is non-transferable to other kingdoms?"


	5. Cold Deck

_Sound bite taken from Spades News at 7 commercial, Spades News being a largely conservative radio network for the upper ruling class of Spades._

"There is an outrage in Spades! A Cold Deck has befallen us all, and what will happen to us? Is Alfred F. Jones, traitor and rag card, truly the King of Spades, or is it the plot of the young, overemotional Queen desperately trying to live with his lover! All this and more- tonight on Spades New at 7."

XXXXX

Alfred was snoring lightly beneath the blankets, the man even drooling a bit, since they had removed his bandages earlier, to get a better look at his eyes. However it left Arthur to stare at the man's scarred visage.

He had work to do- in writing a statement to the people, about the King. What could be said? Certainly, no matter what Arthur wrote- they would ask questions about Alfred.

And he looked  _terrible_ \- but that should be expected. He had been tortured and it was obvious in his scars and behaviors and fears. A king wasn't supposed to be like that, though. A king was supposed to be strong and impenetrable- someone that the people would be able to rely on in times of need. If he were to come off as that, he would have to be rearranged in a way that was sickening to think about. Alfred wasn't a piece of meat, nor was he a dog that could be trained to say something about how it was a battle in the war that had damaged his face so badly.

And really, it all came down to if they would tell the truth about the old regime, or if they covered it up.

Arthur sighed a little and started on his statement to the people. It would be simple enough to try and cover up what had happened…but that wasn't what Arthur wanted to do. Alfred never had been the kind of man to lie-  _especially_  about injustice like this. The Queen wasn't going to try and make him that kind of king.

It was only right that the people would finally know the truth.

XXXXX

Time passed, and soon after the passage of a full week of Alfred getting much needed rest and being cared for, Arthur delivered it to the people.

He started by saying the new Spades king had been found. He then let them know Alfred had broken out of prison and when he was found, it had become apparent what the old regime had done to him. Their once beloved was half-blind and severely injured, and emaciated.

"However, though our beloved General had walked far to make it to the castle…he had not yet known that the mark of the King of Spades was now present on him."

And then he started to clear Alfred's name, of the false accusations of the previous king stating the last few years toward the end of his reign he'd lost his mind. Letting them all know Alfred was still recovering and he would arrange for them to see their new King as soon as he was well enough to leave the infirmary. Arthur hardly felt they needed to know the other details of Alfred's condition.

He purposefully left out the information about how he had been tilted. That would be Alfred's story to tell.

The people were both outraged and relieved- and Arthur knew why. Alfred had been very well known as a man who sided with the people, defended them and worked with them. When he had been declared guilty of treason against the crown, they had been outraged and had rebelled. Now, they knew he was alive, and that he was king. However, tortured? They were angry at the last king- he had been tortured for nothing. It reopened old wounds, reminders of cruelty and injustice, protests that ended in imprisonment and heroes executed.

And worse, they couldn't see him yet. After everything, they needed more proof of it, to know that this was no scheme to make them complicit in a new reign of terror.

Arthur had reassured the people they would be allowed to see the king as well as he could. Hoping he had managed to get across how badly Alfred needed time to recover before he could make an appearance. He'd done what he could; now he had to focus on helping Alfred.

Finished with the statement, he turned around and walked inside, needing to see him. He had to return a letter to the King of Clubs in reference about his doctor, but… that could wait. Alfred took priority. Arthur made his way back to Alfred's bedside, wanting to see if he was awake or still resting.

His beloved Alfred was awake- and alone. His gaze had settled in the distance, staring at nothing at all. It was easy to think he was just dozing, but… the shaking of his hands belied the truth.

"Alfred."

His blue eye turned to watch Arthur carefully, seeming to have regained himself a bit with the use of his name. "Where did you go?" He eventually asked, voice soft.

In the week since he had been found, the truth had become…painfully clear.

Alfred had lost almost all of the remnants of his former strength, and his former self lay in tattered pieces between parts of him that were new and others that were manufactured by torture. All Alfred truly had now were his own thoughts, and oh how traitorous they could be. The King wanted Arthur to tell him what happened in the time he had been alone before he jumped to conclusions- he had learned that his mind was faulty. Alfred had spent part of his time working on his left hand, attempting to make it move. It twitched every now and again, but other than that, it did nothing. The rest was spent sleeping or eating, and occasionally he'd talk with Arthur about things. Sometimes they were meaningful, other times they were angry or had him sad and depressed and others still had Alfred completely out of his mind.

However, Arthur now offered Alfred a small smile, sitting down as he prepared to answer his question. "I've mentioned that I spoke with the Jack about you…. He hadn't been informed yet that you were here and found. I was gone today because I had to deliver that announcement to the people, the one I've been writing all week. They were getting restless on where their Queen had disappeared too. As it turns out you can't just cancel a celebration without proper explanation."

That last comment got Alfred to crack a small grin. "I had no idea." He tried to be playful. "I suppose... that makes sense. I wonder, though. If you told them it was me, surely they'd need proof it was me...?" He asked, shaking a bit as he attempted to sit up. "Since I disappeared years ago now, declared guilty of treason against the crown. If I heard that, I wouldn't believe it- the crown could simply be using my name to quell people's concerns." His blue eye turned to Arthur, something burning behind them. "If you saw me now as a person in the crowd, would you recognize me?"

He sighed a little and thought about that a moment, trying to phrase it delicately. "If I were someone who'd never seen you in person before… no, I wouldn't. Especially not from a distance." Arthur admitted, gently rubbing his arm to comfort him. "But, when you smile like that it's easier to see it's really you."

Alfred nodded, sighing. "So, the people could feasibly be at an impasse with us." He sighed. "They won't recognize me as I am- I could easily be anyone with this much damage to my body, face and mind." The young man closed his eyes. "Someone who knew me, who wasn't royal, could probably vouch for me, though..." He said, slowly. "My brother, or even soldiers who served with me would know me better, enough to recognize me even like this."

Arthur nodded. "Yao is looking into finding your brother now." He was glad to see Alfred with it enough to be able to handle this at least this little bit. It was a good sign, he was sure of it. He smiled a bit and looked back at him. "The best way to go about it I'm sure is to gather people who knew you personally, have them brought to the palace and make it a public affair. Make it difficult for the people to suspect we we're setting it up." Maybe have Alfred's brother stay at an inn until the event.

"I wonder." He said, weakly. "Matt was so angry at me, for joining the army. I bet he'll just want to kick my ass for letting this happen." His eyes closed. "Rather than keep the fact quiet and attempt to gather them on your own...tell people openly you want those who knew me to come forward- personal relations, close relations. Be open with it. I was tortured. I don't do well in crowds of people I don't know right now." He gestured to his body. "And…I cannot move very well on my own." Alfred paused, and sighed, curling up. "If you're open about wanting my friends and loved ones to make themselves known, then that might establish trust in you. If you keep it out to the public, I doubt they would mind about wanting the meetings to be private, since they know all the names of those who were coming."

Arthur nodded to that, it was a better idea. It wasn't hard to think back to his reaction to all the doctors and nurses in the room, crowding him and causing him to have a panic attack. Small meetings, of primarily people he knew. "We'll do it that way then. Set up small meetings." Invite a single reporter in, someone for the newspaper. Someone impartial and reliable to spread the news of what takes place. Someone from Diamonds might be the best. "…For now though while we gather them, the important thing is getting your rest and healing. The doctor is sure we may be able to help you regain some of your sight in your left eye and you've been moving your left arm little by little." He said, touching his shoulder gently.

Alfred was suddenly baffled. "My left eye...?" He asked, lifting his right hand to it. "I've not been able to see from it for the last 3 years..." However, he paused. "Though...I suppose." He frowned. "I never got it looked at- why offer medical care to your prisoner?" Alfred hadn't reacted to the hand on his shoulder, more than willing to let him touch him as he realigned his thoughts, trying to refocus himself and come to terms with the reality he was facing.

"Yes, love. When the doctor checked your eyes he said your left could still detect the light, so there's some hope to bring some of it back." Arthur watched him, a little relieved. Reaching over slowly, Arthur put his hand on Alfred's left hand, squeezing it slightly.

Alfred nodded slowly, looking to Arthur and agreeing quietly. He let Arthur take his hand, and tried to squeeze back, the hand receptive this time and moving to grip Arthur somewhat. "I want to work on being able to walk..." Alfred said, voice firm. "O-or have a way of moving around on my own- can we find some way to do that…can't we?" He asked, wanting something to do. "Or-or, if not that, something I can busy myself with." He mumbled. "I hate being idle…the quiet is the worst part..."

It was good that there was a grip there and Arthur nodded. "I can have a wheelchair brought in for you. It'll give you mobility until you're cleared to be able to stand on your feet again." He glanced to the door before looking back at Alfred. "Would you like me to arrange for it now?"

Alfred agreed to the wheelchair, though he was unconvinced. "I'd like something to do." He reiterated. "If I'm going to stay here, I'll need some busywork...or something." He sighed; attempting to sit up again and once more only shaking until he fell right back onto the bed. The man puffed in frustration. There was only time for this, he  _knew_. But, it had made the past week extremely frustrating for him.

Alfred had never been an idle soul, and it was hard for him to relax. Alfred's many wounds were finally closing, and most were scarring over. The marks on his wrists and ankles and his neck, though- they were going to stay that way for a while longer still. They were...markings of the embedded chains in his neck, and every time he sat up, his head and spine dropped forward. Alfred was able to eat at a more regular pace, and the eye doctor would be there soon, meaning they would be seeing about his glasses. However...Alfred also had points of time where he was nervous and jittery, and nightmares and flashbacks plagued him as well.

The quiet is what did it to him. With no one else there to help him through it, it was easy to be absorbed by it…

"I'll see what I can do." Arthur agreed, slowly stroking Alfred's back as he called for a nurse to bring them a wheelchair.

XXXXX

True to his word, Arthur did what he could to keep him occupied for the most part, at least until it was cleared by the doctors that he was able to leave bed and the room. The busy work Arthur gave him were the letter correspondence between them and the Club Kingdom, as well as updating him on the current rulers of the other Kingdoms.

Shortly after Alfred had been falsely accused and imprisoned, the Diamond kingdom had pulled its' support of the Spades' war against Clubs, though King Francis was eager to begin repairing the lost alliance, having supported Arthur through the times of his father and beyond. It was even more so now, since Alfred was allegedly the King. His radio statement showed that he was all too glad to send a journalist to gather a report for both the people of Diamonds and Spades, and he would like to meet Alfred personally once again- this time, with Alfred as the new King of Spades.

There was good news on behalf of the Jack, as well. Alfred's brother had been found, and was on his way. Military records had found that Alfred's birth home had been destroyed, and Matthew had been living in Hearts under the hospitality of King Ludwig, like many defectors of Spades following the imprisonment of Alfred. The cruelty was that he had run after…after Alfred's parents had been taken to that Northern Prison as well.

The Queen wasn't so eager as to want to know how Alfred knew they were dead upon his gentle probing to their ultimate fates.

That all aside, Alfred was eager to learn the political field, figuring out what had happened between the time he had been imprisoned to this point was particularly hard, since it required him to push back his own memories, real or fake as they might be, to learn new material in that time frame.

"King Francis- I met him at some point." Alfred tried to think back. "Nice fellow, we talked sometimes about what we wanted the world to look like, and what we could do to get it there... It doesn't surprise me he withdrew support after hearing of my unjust imprisonment. I think he mentioned before he was surprised I was born to Spades, and not to Diamonds. I simply told him that the good ol' Blue and Purple went better with my eyes… than the Orange and Yellow colors of Diamonds."

His wheelchair was work to get around in, and he had to have his head held back in order for the bones to start realigning the way they should be. It was all very uncomfortable, though preferable to having to lie in bed all the time.

Writing notes to the Kingdom of Clubs was easy enough- as it turned out, Alfred and Ivan  _had_  met on the battlefield. Ivan was glad to hear Alfred was alive, in his words, "It would be a cruel death, for a man who lived through and led a war, to die behind bars in their own kingdom at the hands of the crown that they had fought to protect."

Arthur remained at Alfred's side as often and as long as possible, and had gotten the King a wheelchair, outfitted with various supports for his back and neck. Once he was able, Arthur hurried to Alfred's side in order to announce the news, smiling brightly. "Alfred- he's on his way here, your brother will be arriving in a few days time." He hoped that would also help lift his spirits some.

But, at hearing the news of Matthew, Alfred had to pause. Arthur's enthusiasm deflated as Alfred didn't look at Arthur, sighing. "That's...good." He murmured, slowly, a bit withdrawn. "That means we can get on with our plans..." Alfred's voice was listless, and he looked down at his lap. It had been years since he had seen Matthew- they had parted on an argument. Matthew was just now hearing that he was alive at all. What would he say? Matthew had been right, would he harp on Alfred's foolishness, or hurt him as the drugs during his torture had forced him to hallucinate? He didn't know...

Arthur put a hand on Alfred's shoulder and frowned softy, trying to comfort him. "It'll be alright, love. He'll be glad to see you, I'm sure of it." Arthur hadn't kept much a secret. The only things he hadn't let the people know were Alfred's intention to kill him in the garden, and the tilt that had caused it. Hopefully things went well but Arthur had no idea what Alfred's relationship with his brother really was. For all Arthur knew, it would be like his own relationship with his family.

He stroked Alfred's hair, the man having given up trying to write his return letter to the king of Clubs for the moment, instead becoming withdrawn.

XXXXX

It was only two days later that the castle was uprooted by shouts at the front gate.

"Where is he!?" A hard voice was yelling even as guards tried to stop him, various other people staring at the scene- a few alongside the blonde who was causing the ruckus at the entrance. "Where is my  _brother_?!"

It was Matthew, and a few others Alfred had known that had been gathered. When they had been told that they couldn't see him all at once, violence had broken out- they all wanted to see him- and they would fight to be able to.

Of course they wanted to see him and stick together- they had been told he was arrested for treason, and even Matthew- who hadn't seen him since they were 18- knew that was not like his brother. He had been forced to leave the Kingdom when his parents had been taken. He and defectors from the army had been living in Hearts in the meantime.

The journalist from Diamonds, a young woman who wore her hair in long braid and had a kind personality, along with a knack for card games and gambling, named Lucille Dubois. She was kind enough to give Alfred his space, but at the moment, it wasn't helpful, since Arthur couldn't find her and go calm the crowd as well.

Alfred was awake, but he grew nervous as the guards and people yelled at each other, even from his room. He was in a fresh set of clothes, white and blue to match the colors of Spades, and he knew Arthur needed to find the journalist and go get the group. Shouldn't he be helping…? But if he stepped in, would they recognize him? He didn't...he didn't...know. So he waited, nerves and stress building inside of him and causing him to want to scream and cry and hide and  _get away_  from this panic.

While he was sweeping through the room in his more casual clothing, Arthur gently put a hand on Alfred's shoulder, before leaning down and kissing his cheek. "It'll be alright." He'd told him in an attempt to reassure him, before rushing out to manage the situation. He came down the path to the front gate, steeling himself for whatever he was going to face.

"If everyone could calm down and stop  _shouting_  for a moment, I need to speak with you before you can see the king." Arthur ordered, frowning a little. He waited a moment, thankfully gathering their attention. "Alfred has been through a lot these past few years, and he's recovering well. However, shouting and causing a disturbance like this is  _not_  going to help him and will not be tolerated." He held up a hand and had the guards let the journalist in first, he would have a guard with the woman at all times.

"Now please, Matthew, yes?" He said, gesturing to the lookalike of his beloved, his King. "You and two others may follow me to see Alfred. I would like to keep the visits with a small group. It's at his request we avoid bringing in large,  _loud_  groups."

"That's never been like Alfred." A soldier said suspiciously, eyes narrowing on the Queen. "He's always been the loudest out of everyone." Matthew looked at him, before looking back to Arthur, agreeing with the soldier, but unwilling to lose this chance if it  _was_  his brother.

"Fine." He agreed, his voice making it very clear how unhappy he was with this arrangement. He picked two of Alfred's friends from the army, who had come to know Matthew in the year since the end of the war, and then they walked, flanking each other to prevent a sudden attack. The guards around them didn't do much for their peace of mind, setting them on edge instead. However, if Alfred was here...then they needed to see him.

Arthur nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little once they had agreed. "I know that you might not be happy with this, but my father put him through a lot during his time in prison." Arthur told them as they made their way through the halls and to Alfred's room. "I assure you it's very much him, but he's been very terribly wounded. He told me the two of you left on an argument." Arthur started, directing this to Matthew, pleading. "If you're angry with him… please, try not to shout at him. It took me a while to convince him I wasn't some apparition conjured up to hurt him."

"Of course I'm not angry with him!" Matthew exclaimed, shocked. "He left, and I was scared because he was in the  _army_ , and then he just never came home! Guards came around, accusing him of being a traitor, taking my parents after they told me to hide." His brow was creased. "It's been 4 years since I've seen him, and he's my  _brother_ , and I thought he had died- and I had fled the country because of that." He looked away, upset. "I've missed him,  _mourned_  him, he's worried me and I'm still worried."

Arthur could only agree with the part about Alfred worrying them. He was relieved to hear that he wasn't mad, though he wondered if he should have prepared them a little more for Alfred's current condition, even if it was much better than it had been before.

Walking into the room, Matthew hadn't been ready. On one side was the journalist, the other...it was Alfred. He knew from his nose and general facial structure, and his one sky blue eye. But...he hadn't been ready. Alfred had one eye was swollen shut, his head was held back against a wheelchair, and much of his body was bandaged, as Matthew and the soldiers could see beneath his clothing- donning the blue and purple of Spades once more.

Alfred looked visibly nervous, body taut in fright, and his pupil constricted as he saw Matthew for the first time since he had left, his breath caught in his chest as he tried to curl up and hide himself from sight, and the majority of him did so- save his immobile left arm, which stayed put, allowing the three newcomers to see the Kings tattoo on his left shoulder.

"Alfred, Alfred dear it's alright." Arthur walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it. "He's not angry with you." He offered, hoping to help him relax some, his other hand going his left hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. That's what Alfred had been worried about, that and, well that Matthew would hurt him, like the hallucination had before.

"Alfred...?" Matthew's voice croaked, his eyes wide at the sight before him. He wasn't... It  _was_  Alfred, but he wasn't  _himself_. He watched as Alfred desperately tried to calm down with Arthur's help, heard Arthur's words attempting to help him. He stood dumbly, not knowing what he could say to him. None of the visitors did. Torture was something they had all known about- to enemy soldiers and traitors, but...here it was before them, the effects of it on a man who had been bright and filled with life and energy.

Someone who hadn't deserved this, but did anyone  _really_  deserve  _this_?

The thought sickened them to their core.

This was...something they hadn't been ready for, and suddenly, they knew exactly why the Queen was so hesitant to show their King to a large group. Even with 5 people, Alfred seemed nervous and stressed.

And that was because he  _was_  nervous and stressed- Alfred was shaking in panic, staring at Matthew in fright, before he felt Arthur's hand squeezing his own, and his soft words reassuring him as Arthur hushed him and tried to remind him that this was real, and he was safe.

"I'm sorry." Alfred croaked out, staring. "It's...it's hard, Matt...Give me a second..." He took in a few breaths, trying to focus on what was different than his nightmares and hallucinations, on the other soldiers and their gaze, how horrified everyone looked,  _anything_  to keep him from falling into a hallucination where he was back in that prison and these people were there to hurt him.

Arthur looked over at them, an apologetic look before turning his attention back to Alfred, letting him know he was there, rubbing his shoulder. "Take your time love." He said gently, squeezing his hand again and rubbing his shoulder a bit. "You're safe." He wanted to send someone outside; maybe he should have only let Matthew and one other inside, but it was too late.

"Sit, please." A guard instructed as the Queen remained focused on Alfred, and the soldiers did so quietly, humbled by what was going on.

Alfred slowly forced his breathing to calm down, and he looked at Matt sadly. "I'm sorry...I've been impolite...Hey..." He mumbled, trying to smile. "It's been awhile, Matt…Guys..." He said, voice small, and Matthew gulped.

"Alfred...I'm sorry too." He said, toning down his voice. "It's definitely Alfred."

"Of course it's em." One of the soldiers spoke up, scoffing. "He's apologizing for being impolite when e's obviously hurt. That's more Alfred than anything else. And it's good to see you too, Al." He said, gruffly, even as he smiled and the other soldier followed his example. That meant that they could get on with the interview and help the young royals as well as Matthew, and tell the people what had become of their young peasant solider now-turned king.

Arthur let out a soft sigh of relief and smiled a bit. The journalist came a little closer so she could properly hear and see what was happening to record it. Letting them talk as they wished. Making sure as well that Alfred new if he needed time to breathe or a moment to himself Arthur would send them out for him.

They asked questions about what had happened, and he was brutally honest with his story. They asked about his injuries, and he was clear- they were from years of torture, and later, his escape. There was no love lost between the dead King and Alfred, but Alfred was clear that Arthur was not to blame for anything regarding his imprisonment. And soon, the whole thing was over, and the soldiers were switched out.

Alfred requested Matthew stay with them. There was more talk, more questions. What was Alfred to do about the now finished war with Clubs, broken relations with Diamonds and Hearts, and the list of domestic topics grew and grew...but it was becoming easier to talk as the questions directed their focus away from his story.

Arthur was glad to see Alfred gaining steam, and was pleased they had taken the time to catch Alfred up on the politics of the situation. He sat at his side, holding his hand and just being there, answering questions when any were directed at him. As the evening drew on Arthur cut the interview short for the moment, having the journalist and soldiers sent away so that a meal could be brought in.

The journalist thanked the two, wished Alfred well, and then left. Soldiers did much the same, shaking hands with their king, who was beginning to look exhausted from all the conversation, telling him that they would be glad to serve in his army once again.

And then they were alone, Alfred asking for Arthur to remove his head from the headrest softly, wanting to be able to move it again. Matthew felt unsure of what to do- this was his brother, and Alfred had asked him to stay. He looked to Arthur when Alfred didn't say anything about what to do, though.

Arthur removed the straps for him, kissing his forehead lightly after he had done so. Looking to Matthew, the queen smiled invitingly. "If you would like, you may stay here a while. I could easily have a room made up for you so you can be close with your brother, especially while he's recovering." He offered, glancing at Alfred to see if he was up for that. Hopefully that would help as well, to have his brother nearby- especially now that things were settling down.

Alfred drooped, sighing a bit as he did so. "That thing is so uncomfortable..." He complained, even though he knew that his body needed it, or his spine would be permanently curved forward. "I'd like you to..." He mentioned to Matthew, looking at him with his big blue eye, not wanting to be a burden but also needing his support.

And that was it for Matthew. He agreed, and swallowed any arguments about getting a place outside of the castle. This was his brother- it was  _Alfred_ , and Alfred needed him for a change. "Alright." He agreed to Arthur's invitation. "You mentioned dinner?" He asked, getting up from his seat to walk to Alfred, getting close enough so that if he wanted, Alfred could reach out to him.

Arthur let out a sigh of relief when Matthew agreed and Alfred asked him to stay as well.

Alfred, bit his lip, before he decided on it. For the first time just over a week, Alfred forced himself to try and stand- he wanted to hug his brother, and though the action was shaky, and slow, he managed, wobbling on his feet, Arthur had been surprised by the sudden movement, but had gone to support him, until Matthew engulfed him in a hug, feeling his brother shaking form and letting Alfred relax against him.

"He needs to be eating more fattening foods." Matthew admonished Arthur lightly, touching Alfred's ribs and spine as he rubbed his back. "Things with sugar and easily broken down carbs, in order to build back his muscles."

"Yes, well, right now we've just been feeding him easy foods, to help build up his appetite again." Arthur explained. "There has been improvement on what he can keep down so we have been starting to put more solid foods into his meals than just soups and oatmeal and such." He rubbed his arm a bit. "I can have the doctors informed that they're allowed to update you on his condition if you ask."

Matthew proved himself stronger than he looked when Alfred was suddenly scooped up into his arms at the first sign that he was collapsing entirely. "I'd like to know more about it." Matthew agreed almost instantly.

Alfred was immensely soothed by Matthew's gentle grip, a nice change from sitting in an uncomfortable wheelchair or lying in a cold bed, closing his eye and relaxing almost instantly. Alfred looked exhausted, but Matthew knew that he needed to work on getting meat on his bones.

"He should eat before he goes to sleep." He murmured, before redirecting that to Alfred. "You heard that- wake up, you need some food in your stomach." Alfred's eye opened, and he smiled slowly as Matthew ruffled his hair. "Wish mom could get you something, but I'll have to do, I suppose." He murmured, looking to Arthur for a place to go with him, the Queen biting down on the jealousy that burned in him upon watching that display of affection between them.

It was strange. Alfred was still suspicious of Arthur on frequent occasions, and yet...Matthew had already earned his trust, enough so that Alfred was more than willing to be held by him. Alfred was still freaked out when Arthur tried to touch him from the wrong side, and yet Matthew was able to practically manhandle him. It could be that they were brothers, that the trust between them had run deeper.

Arthur watched them, agreeing that Alfred did indeed need to eat. "They should be bringing in something to the room now." He said as the meal was brought into the room and set on the waiting table for them. He felt a twinge of jealousy run through him, more so wishing he had a sibling to be able to rely on like that- one who he could trust so deeply. As it were his three older brothers had been lost in the war, either missing or dead and in all honestly- Arthur didn't particularly miss them. They had taken too much after their father.

So, he couldn't be justifiably be jealous of Alfred's instant trust in Matthew if he wanted too. Matthew hadn't been part of the royal family; it was probably much easier to dismiss the hallucinations than it was to dismiss the ones of himself.

"I'll have the kitchen told to let you help monitor his meals as well." Arthur eventually responded. "I've mostly been following the doctors suggestions, however if you have other ideas for his meals feel free to step in."

Alfred smiled slowly, Matthew sitting him up with Alfred propped against his chest, starting to feed him. "Thank you very much, Queen Arthur." Matthew said, sincerely. "Alfred's been in good hands with you, I imagine." He smiled at the other. "I hope that's a good sign for the future as well."

Alfred was sleepy and docile, letting Matthew feed him as he wished. In a flight of fancy, the younger, healthier sibling took off his glasses and set them on Alfred, making the man blink as the world suddenly came into focus around him, and Matthew squinted a bit as he lost some of his sight.

"I saw you were missing your glasses." Matthew grinned wryly at his brother. "How do these work?" He asked, wanting more innocent conversation with his sibling, trying to get something out of him before he went to sleep.

"Much better than nothing." Alfred murmured after a moment, able to look up and see Matthew more clearly, before his gaze turned to look at Arthur, his blue eye softening. "But...they're not perfect, they're giving me a bit of a headache. Though... it is nice, to be able to see things and not have everything be so fuzzy..." He mumbled, before taking them off with his good hand and looking to Arthur expectantly.

"We're expecting to have his glasses fitted by the middle of net week." Arthur said from atop his seat, feeling a tad bit out of place amongst the affectionate touches between the two brothers.

"Come eat with us, Arthur. I'll miss your company if you decide to leave me." Alfred joked lightly, pretending it was a joke to cover his true, deeply seated fears. It fell a little heavy, and Alfred squirmed his fingers tightening on himself.

In truth, Arthur  _had_  been entertaining the idea of leaving the two brothers to have their time together and was surprised when Alfred had spoken up. And he smiled a little as Alfred asked him to come join them. The Queen didn't comment on how the comment felt oppressive over him. He sat down beside them to eat, resting his hand on Alfred's a moment, being sure to touch his left like usual before beginning to eat.

Alfred smiled at him, gripping Arthur suddenly with it, plenty happy to relax in their shared presence. Arthur squeezed his hand back, more than pleased with the progress Alfred was making in being able to use it.

"Well, it's a good thing too- we're both blind as bats without glasses." Matthew said, conversational. "Him even more than me." He offered his glasses for Arthur to see how much of a prescription the brothers needed. "And he's never liked that, not being able to see. I suppose it's an easy paranoia to prey upon, as well." Matthew stroked Alfred's hair, his older brother and the King of Spades officially tuckered out and closing his eyes.

Arthur took the glasses and made a face as he stared through the lens. "Goodness, I see you are indeed." He chuckled a little and handed them back to Matthew.

"You look very put out." Matthew admitted to Arthur in a whisper, so as not to disturb Alfred. "I'm sorry for intruding on you two."

At Matthew's apology Arthur shook his head. "No, It's more than alright. I, I haven't seen him this relaxed and comfortable before now." He chuckled softly and tried to relax some. "If anything I'm a little jealous of the both of you. I've never had a sibling I'd be so pleased to see normally, let alone after what's happened to him..."

"Alfred and I are brothers." He murmured. "He always protected me when we were little. I hated that he went to the warfront, but only because I was worried about his damned hero complex getting him killed." Matthew stroked his hair thoughtfully. "I suppose I'm thinking about how mom would deal with us when we were hurt, and of course... It's easier to trust someone you've known your whole life, I think. Even though he's letting me do this- he's  _tired_. It looked like earlier he wanted you to be a bit more intimate as well." Matthew revealed Alfred's secret. "He doesn't like asking for it, but he's a total touch pig." Matthew joked. " _Especially_  when he's stressed about something… he's always enjoyed physical reassurances."

The meal continued with silence, Matthew waiting to stop when Alfred refused to eat anymore, turning away, sated, their words distant as he was at the end of his capacity to stay awake. "Would you like to hold him for a moment? I need to eat as well..." Matthew phrased it innocently enough.

Arthur wasn't sure how well that would work. Alfred was still larger than he was, even half starved. And, again, he'd been overly nervous about being too affectionate, too physical in fear that it would trigger something or cause Alfred to withdraw from him. Especially with how he would still sometimes flinch away when Arthur would come from the left too soon or move too quick, accidentally.

But Alfred was a handful in Matthew's arms, and he had invited Matthew to dinner. His king was on the edge of falling asleep, and he did seem to enjoy the closeness.

"Yes, that I could do." He said finally and with Matthew's assistance on the matter held Alfred on his lap, letting the other rest his he'd on his shoulder. "'Ello there love." He said softly, a smile on his lips. Alfred opened his eye a bit, smiling as he curled up against him, more than happy to accept this spot.

"There we are." Matthew said softly, encouraging Arthur to rub his back or something similar with a gesture. Quietly, Matthew explained. "Alfred's always liked hugs and being comforted physically." He murmured. "Whenever I see him curl up on himself or rub his neck, or arms, it usually means he wants that, and he's been doing those small cues all afternoon. However, I understand if you don't know how to read those cues, or if he's afraid of being hurt and is a little skittish. My advice might be to ask him, since he might want it but might also not want to say that he does."

Arthur rubbed Alfred's back, taking Matthew's advice and nodding a bit as Alfred was lulled by the motion as Matthew had said he would be. "We…we didn't have a lot of time together. Never mind that half of it I was difficult, and distant. He was just one of fathers war generals, I hadn't wanted to get too close..."

Arthur sighed a little, smiling a bit and rested his head against Alfred's, as he thought back to that bright and happy man, loving and kind. "He…was awfully persistent. I couldn't help falling for the bastard. All we had were quick, stolen moments the few times he was here and not in the field." He hadn't a lot of time to learn Alfred's habits, but it was enough to miss him terribly.

Matthew nodded, understanding now why Arthur cared for Alfred like he did. "Aha." He murmured. "Well, he  _does_  seem to like you." Matthew agreed, watching how Alfred slept against him, lulled into peaceful slumber by a full stomach, and a gentle hand on his back. "But he's one of those people who are hard not to love." Matthew mumbled as he ate his share of the meal. "I hope that's still true."

"As far as I've seen it is." He said after a moment, still running Alfred's back and going over that evening, trying to remember the little cues that Matthew had spoken of. Alfred was in fact, one that would rub his chin, or grip his arm, or scratch his neck. At the start of the day, he had curled on himself, protectively, and in another instance, he had hugged himself tightly. These were easy to ignore, though, and it made sense if Arthur hadn't noticed- he hadn't ever thought of them as 'cues' to anything but his nervousness. "…I wish I'd been able to do more."

"Do more of what?" Matthew asked, soft.

He sighed and looked over at Matthew. "When it all happened. I, I hadn't been able to help him." Arthur looked back at Alfred and rubbed his back a bit more. "Arguing with father about it did nothing and I suspect it just made things worse on Alfred. I keep wondering, if I'd only done  _something_  sooner…"

"Ah." Matthew nodded with grim understanding, gulping. "Well...it is over now." Matthew was quiet. "He's not there now, and for all we know, his nightmares and hallucinations are simply leftovers from your father leaving...a ' _contingency_ ' plan in." Matthew suggested as Alfred nuzzled Arthur. "Alfred mentioned hallucinations, and you mentioned he was strong enough to walk here on foot...? Perhaps he would have killed us, had we tried to help him escape..."

"Y-yes, that's true." He smiled a bit when Alfred nuzzled him, even though he stumbled over his words. Matthew had hit the nail on the head. Arthur kissed Alfred's forehead softly as he remembered. "He trudged barefoot, through the snow, the whole way to the palace garden from the northern prison, dragging his 50 pound chains with him. He's incredibly strong, in more ways than one." Arthur told him as he reached up and ran his fingers through Alfred's hair, washed and clean, just as soft as he had remembered.

"Poor guy." Matthew sympathized. "I imagine that he was very upset." He mumbled as he finished his meal. "Thank you for your hospitality, your highness. I can carry him." He offered, knowing that they were done for now, and Alfred was conked out, meaning he'd be dead weight on Arthur- who didn't look that strong.

"It's no problem and yes, please, if you could help me get him to bed." Arthur asked, shifting slightly. With Matthew's help Arthur pulled the blankets up over the King once he was in bed. Petting his hair softy Arthur watched him. Alfred was doing much better, which was good. Arthur was grateful for it.

"Come on then, I'll have a room set for you nearby. If you'd like while he sleeps, I could give you a brief tour of the palace, and…well. You'll need to get caught up on Alfred's current state of health." Arthur admitted quietly.

Matthew looked up at him, a sad, sorry smile on his face.

"I heard rumors, of course, from Hearts. From defectors… But it's not true, is it?" Matthew whispered, Arthur gesturing for Matthew to follow him out.

"If the rumors were that our King was tilted…then unfortunately, they are too true for my liking."

Matthew nodded solemnly, the two walking out of the room together, turning off the lights as they did so.

There was much to discuss.

XXXXX

_Excerpt from Independent Cards Weekly's Op/Ed, an International newspaper run by people from all around Cards, and this particular article came from one Lucille Dubois, from Diamonds, in reference to the announcement of the New King of Spades._

Undoubtedly, the new rulers of Spades might be easily thought of as a Cold Deck, to use layman's terms. I was none the wiser, only going because my longtime friend, the King of Diamonds requested it of me. However, in meeting the king, especially, one has to wonder why this is.

Let's recap the ruling deck- the first found was Arthur, the next queen. His tattoo formed and was announced only days following the death of the poor child's mother, when he had still been a boy. Arthur Kirkland, whose father is widely hated in Spades and thought poorly of abroad, became Queen only a few months ago. Many traveling nobles were miffed when the young Queen had cancelled the events of his coronation for mysterious reasons. However, I feel as though he has been since justified, in the revealing of the King, Alfred F. Jones.

The next found was Yao Wang, of a small farm province in the Southern piece of Spades. His place as Jack was admittedly one rushed upon a 17 year old, when the Jack had died and left the King alone. He took his place a tad early, but perhaps this is a good thing, since the new King will undoubtedly need guidance.

And…all right, I'll stop teasing you all. Certainly you want to know what Alfred is like. WE all remember the outrage expressed in Hearts and Diamonds when he was declared a traitor and put in Spades Northern prison. Well, firstly, I would like to say that he is a rare gem in politics. He is genuinely kind, and the defectors he spoke with genuinely respected him. He is quiet, and he is gravely injured from his time in prison, but he is still a good man.

So, perhaps the new ruling deck of Spades isn't so bad off after all- perhaps the only reason they're considered cold is because the current nobles of Spades fear what a King like Alfred will mean for them.


	6. Angle

"Thank you for letting me take up living here..." Matthew said as they came to a close, a certain heaviness having descended upon them after discussing Alfred's…condition as a survivor of tilt.

"It is no trouble." Arthur nodded quietly, looking at his hands. There had been talk from the nobles about how this was simply a ploy of his- to make his lover their leader…idiots, what did they know?

"However, if Alfred's simply in the infirmary, and you're not there, that's where I'd like to be." Matthew cut into his thoughts, voice firm. He wasn't going to have Alfred be alone- Alfred was never a loner, he always enjoyed company, and he doubted that leaving him alone was a good idea...

Arthur nodded. "Of course. That would be good for him, to have someone there with him that he knows when he wakes up. Usually I can be there but there is a lot to be done. His left arm is becoming much more mobile, so he's been having less and less trouble with moving about with the chair and I've convinced the doctors to start letting him use the study for the times he's going over documents."

Matthew agreed easily. "Of course, of course...I'd love to be able to comfort him whenever he wakes up. You're busy since you're royalty, and I'm just a peasant farmer. I'll be more than happy to stick with him rather than to sit in some... nice bedroom." He exchanged for the original word, which was, garish. "Plus, I can't imagine that thing's comfortable." He added. "The wheelchair, I mean. Surely, he can start trying to walk...?"

As the words 'peasant farmer' slid from Matthew's lips, Arthur's own chilled into the polite smile of politics. He was no stranger to the passive-aggressiveness that civilians often presented in the company of the ruling class, but it never did stop stinging a little if he wasn't expecting it.

However, Matthew was Alfred's brother, and Alfred was Arthur's king now. As much as Arthur hated when people tried to take a shot at him as if he personally was the embodiment of the crown he was born into, he felt he had to make a good faith effort to get along with Matthew. It would be nice if they could be on the same page.

"Well, in the case of Alfred walking again," Arthur began, and he folded his hands neatly behind his back. He set his shoulders straight, and back, a posture he'd learned a long time ago to assume when he felt the need to fidget. "Obviously, I am not his physician, but he has barely been cleared to leave the infirmary. It has barely been two weeks since his arrival, and the truth is your brother was in a poor state when he arrived. Far worse, even, than he is now. From what I have been told, he will be able to walk again. But he's already injured himself once trying to force his body to move too quickly. Give him time, and if you could, encourage him to rest."

Arthur smiled a little, some softness in the expression, since they both did care about the same person. "Alfred could use a gentle, patient hand, and a familiar face. I'm relieved you can be here to help provide for him."

Matthew sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck, sitting back and focusing on Alfred once again. "The only reason I ask about him walking is because Alfred has never been one to sit still. Making him stay put and rest actually ends up making him worse in a lot of ways, since he's antsy and anxious. He'll want to have something physical to do, since that's always what he's done. As he gets better...well, I can't imagine he'll take well to the news of our parents deaths, I didn't say anything today since he was already so stressed... But he'll have to know soon enough... However, I know my brother, and I know how he prefers to spend his time, injured though he is, what he won't take well to is being told to stay put, even though he must rest. He's injured, I see that, but we will need to have something physical for him to do- even if it's just walks in the courtyard, with someone pushing around his wheelchair. Sitting cooped up...just sounds like another prison, especially if his freedom of motion has been reduced to nothing."

"As it stands now, Alfred is as mobile and active as much as is permitted by the physicians at this time. He has regained significant mobility with his left arm and there is hope for him to see with his left eye again. I have in fact been living him work to do, he has been going over our relations with the other kingdoms which will be most of his duties as king."

"With that said," and Arthur cleared his throat to redirect the conversation and straightened again. "You brought up an important matter, Matthew. I haven't had great opportunity to speak with Alfred on certain details. Now that he is my king, and as he is your brother, you aren't exactly a 'peasant farmer' anymore. Really, that would leave you a prince, of sorts. A duke, at the least. Tell me; does your family own the land you work? We can make arrangements. And do you have someone to tend to it while you're here? I could acquire some good hands to assist, or even direct in your absence. I would hate for your livelihood to suffer in your absence."

Matthew raised an eyebrow at being cut off, but allowed the Queen to finish his speech. "Hoo lord. Alfred never did tell you what he came from, did he?" He asked with a wry smile. "Well, allow me to say I meant no offense to you. However, my parents never owned the land, and neither did Al or myself. We still don't. The fact of the matter is, once our parents died under suspicious circumstances while Alfred was away in prison, I still had to tend the land, and that was all fine and dandy, however, neither Alfred or myself have ever been an idle soul. This whole castle life- its extravagant, considering that Al and I grew up with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the words of our parents."

"With that said... Alfred only joined the military since he knew that there was a stable paycheck involved, and a food stipend that our parents would be guaranteed." Matthew scoffed. "Much use that is now, since we only got it that first year, and then our parents died. Our "livelihood" was essentially serfdom. I won't be missed much, particularly since my brother is now the King, and I'm not going back for the Lord of the land my family worked in to try in get in my "good graces"." Matthew rolled his eyes here.

"Your rather...optimistic view of how our society has worked is just that- optimistic, and its not realistic in any manner. Everything Alfred's comrades told me about his service to Spades simply told me that the only reason he ever became high ranking was because he was damned good at what he did- he never got a handout from anyone because he was rich. It's just the opposite, actually. He is called the peasant soldier because he is what the peasant masses want for their children-to have an equal opportunity to the ruling class. Do not be personally offended, I simply say what I know of the situation outside of these castle walls, and I'm certain Alfred didn't have much time to talk about that with you, even now. Much of these grievances are with your father, but you know as well as I do that the people are going to take them to you, since you are his next in line."

Arthur shifted how he was standing and crossed his arms over his chest, listening to Matthew speak. He bit his tongue and kept up the polite smile, his back stiffening the longer Matthew went on. When he was finished Arthur cleared his throat. "Yes well. I see you are, still a little too emotional for this conversation. I'm terribly sorry for bringing up old wounds." His attention rested on Alfred for a moment, before he looked back at Matthew now, taking a deep steadying breath.

"I am well aware of how my kingdom works and well aware of how the people felt about my father. In fact Alfred made it most abundantly clear himself when he broke out of prison with the express intent to murder me." He hadn't wanted to tell any one that. As far as any of the staff knew Alfred had found his way into the garden where Arthur discovered him. "Now if you have concerns with his recovery I advise you to take them up with his doctor, and I shall let you be in charge of overseeing his recovery. As it stands he is fit enough to be cleared to leave the room in the next couple days. In his wheelchair."

He motioned to it. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to. If you or Alfred have need of me please alert the staff and I will come as quickly as I am able." With that Arthur turned on his heel and started to walk from the room.

Matthew saw how obviously Arthur had refused to listen to his complaints, and had ignored the fact Matthew had admitted readily that their parents had been murdered under his fathers orders. However, he went back to Alfred's bedside, and sat with him, muttering to his brothers sleeping form about how Arthur wasn't going to be that great of a ruler if he interpreted complaints of the lavish monarchy as being passive aggressive.

When Alfred woke, Matthew was there, and the man easily calmed his brother with a soft voice and a gentle hand in the usual spot mom would comfort them with. "So, you tried to kill the Queen?" Matthew asked with a small grin, and Alfred groaned a bit, rubbing his forehead. They had to talk about that- Matthew wanted to know how to best help his brother from an emotional standpoint.

XXXXX

Arthur made his way down the hall and to his chambers, on the way telling a servant to have a room near the infirmary made up for Matthew, as well as that he was not to be bothered unless it was urgent, or if the King or the Kings brother had need of him. He shut the door to his chambers firmly and leaned on the door, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. Of course his father would have had Alfred's parents killed. But that didn't explain why Matthew was left alive. Maybe as a warning he didn't know. He didn't care why. It was over and now he had a kingdom, rocked by a war that was lost and a King in the same shape.

Picking up the vase on the dresser Arthur threw it against the wall, the sound if made satisfying. So he broke another, picking up a book Arthur threw that too, hitting the painting on the wall of his father. He stared at it, rage and fear and pain rolling through him as he tore it of the wall and broke it, shredding the painting and breaking the frame that held it.

Arthur dropped to his knees, trembling and crying as he hit the floor where his fathers face had been moments ago. The people had their complaints and Arthur knew, he knew better than anyone what kind of man his father had been. He'd lived with him, and when his mother died he'd become his fathers Queen. Crowned 'officially' at the time or not that's what he was. He'd never been allowed to forget that, to forget his place.

Punching the floor again Arthur repeated the motion until his knuckles were bloody and all he could do was cry. After a while he pushed himself up, standing and walking shakily to his bedside table Arthur took out the small kit he had there and sat on his bed to bandage his knuckles. He spent a long time after just staring at he mark on his hand. He didn't choose it. None of the royal family chose it, and no matter how Arthur scratched all he ended up with were bloody marks. It healed back and the mark remained the same. Wearily he dropped back against the bed and lay there on his side, staring at the wall. His fathers words circled in his head- _a_ _worthless good for nothing son. Not even a proper prince- you turned out to be a bloody fucking queen._

Arthur curled up, holding himself and closed his eyes. If he had to answer for his fathers sins, how was he supposed to answer for the ones against him?

The two brothers exchanged stories; Alfred's coming first and foremost. Matthew worried for him, and had since moved his brother into his lap, the King tired and wishing that things were different.

"I hope you didn't piss Arthur off." Alfred murmured. "He's...a difficult man to get to know." He admitted. "But he's worth knowing. He's- He's not like his father, Matthew. Perhaps he's sheltered from life outside the castle, but he faced abuse all the same." Matthew grumbled, but allowed Alfred to speak of his time with Arthur. "He was a stubborn prince, but I liked him. I made him like me too."

"That's easy Al, you could make a rock like you." Matthew snorted, and the twin agreed as he smiled, though it was small.

"Maybe." He agreed. "However, Arthur...we did really love each other." He murmured. "I didn't talk much about my past- his father forbade mentioning my status as a true, utter peasant once they had made me general- the other peasants knew, but...Arthur didn't. I didn't tell him. His father would punish him. They threatened you and our parents often enough once I was..." He murmured. "And Arthur, they threatened him too. Until later in the torture..." His voice became distant. "Then I was drugged up, I don't know what they did...but...suddenly you and Arthur were there, torturing me, as well as our parents... It was so fucked up, Matt…" He admitted, shaking a bit. "But, now that I'm...actually aware, this wasn't real, I know that Arthur was...well. Not as bad off as I was, but he wasn't doing great, either." Matthew hugged Alfred, gently stroking his back.

Alfred heard crashing sounds, and he gasped, gripping Matthew suddenly. "G-go get Arthur, will you…?" He asked, shaky. "Or...get a nurse or someone to get him... I wanna be able to see you both..."

And Matthew called a nurse, asking her to go find Arthur, Alfred desiring his presence.

It took the servant a few knocks before Arthur told her he was on his way. Arthur changed, trading out his rumbled and slightly bloodied clothes for fresh ones. He made sure to bandage his hand properly and slipped on a pair of gloves. He washed his face and took a breath.

A handful of minutes later Arthur walked into the room. "You had need of me?" He asked, his voice steady and a small even smile on his face. His hands clasped behind his back and his posture ridged. Hardly a sign he'd lost his wits just shortly before.

Alfred stared. "I wanted to make sure you are alright." He murmured, suspicious of Arthur's strange behavior just as Matthew looked suspect of his changed clothes. "I heard a crashing sound, would you come here a moment?"" Alfred asked, voice soft and concerned. "I think Matthew may have said things he didn't know better of." His King continued, much to Matthew's obvious annoyance, and Alfred's bright blue eye was soft. "If so, I'm sorry- on my brother's behalf." He gave a small smile.

Arthur walked over and tried to relax his shoulders. "I'm quite alright." He stopped beside him, hands coming to rest at his sides. "Matthew was quite fine, he was simply airing his grievances with my father and such. I expected as much." Arthur continued before he stopped talking clasping his hands together in front of him. As for the crashing I simply knocked something over in my room. Nothing too terrible or drastic."

"That was one awful loud knocking over of something." Alfred said, voice flat. "Did you knock it over multiple times and have it break twice?" He asked, gripping Arthur's hand with his right for a change, attempting to pull it closer, and Arthur down to the bed, simply wanting to check his hand and ensure Arthur was okay... He looked tense and upset- Alfred didn't want him to feel upset...

Arthur hadn't been expecting Alfred to grip his hand like that, least of all with his right. The slight sting made his eyes twitch but he was well used to hiding pain. He did however sit on the bed beside Alfred. "Really Alfred, it's alright." He said, "I'm fine, Alfred, _really_." He repeated, squeezing his hand slightly.

"Mind taking these off?" Alfred asked, innocently. "I'd like to feel you a bit more...normally." He explained, trying to move his left to stroke Arthur's shoulder, forcing himself to sit up, Matthew propping his back up at the same time with the pillows.

This distraction reminded Alfred that they weren't alone. "Would you mind leaving a second, Matt?" He asked, and the brother nodded, letting the two have their privacy.

Arthur stiffened a little and swallowed. Obediently Arthur took the gloves off for him, setting them aside so Alfred could see he tightly wrapped bandages. He looked back at Alfred, his eyes focused on his chin more than his face now.

"Aha." Alfred murmured, becoming gentle with his grip, feeling the bandages. "And what happened here?" He asked, though the voice wasn't accusing, more soft and understanding. "My love?" He asked, smiling a bit at the man.

Alfred knew that Arthur didn't cope well with accusations of being like his father- he had known that from before their separation. "I'm sorry, Arthur. Matthew just...he doesn't know much about you other than what they know from news and propaganda about you..." He gripped him with his left hand, sitting up better, smiling slowly. "Please, it's alright. I know you're not your fathers son, I do. What they did made me think otherwise, but I do know...you're not like him."

Arthur flinched without meaning too when Alfred felt the bandages, acknowledging them. He didn't answer Alfred right away, not trusting his voice and he shifted, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest at being caught. As Matthew left he couldn't help the way the feeling tightened around him alone with his King.

Taking a breath Arthur avoided looking directly at Alfred still. "I know. Really, it's fine alright I'm alright I just had a moment is all." He laughed a little, shakily. "He didn't say anything about me being my father really." It was fine- he was fine. "I have a lot to answer for is all you know. I am his son you know by blood. So I am responsible for answering for the things he'd done. Your brother isn't the only one who feels that way and I can't say I blame them. He was a terrible man…"

Arthur was babbling, and Alfred knew that he was upset, and lying to himself. "Please, look at me, Arthur." Alfred requested of him softly, his left hand reaching up to cup his face, rubbing his cheek with his thumb. "I don't think you're responsible for his actions." The man said, gentle. "He was a terrible man, but I know he was terrible to you as well." His right hand went to Arthur's forearm, trying to pull him down to the bed. "And, if I don't blame you for his actions, if I don't think you're responsible for answering for his crimes, then what basis do they have to blame you? I knew both of you very personally...and you're not at fault. Look at me, Arthur...I love you, and…I trust you." He said, trying to restore some faith in Arthur.

Alfred's eye was soft, and he was very sweetly smiling, simply wanting Arthur to become happier, to stop looking so upset. He knew that Arthur had done this to himself, he knew it, of course he did. Arthur wasn't free of damage from the last king's actions, and Alfred knew that. And he had to comfort Arthur, since it wasn't his fault.

Arthur tensed a little when Alfred cupped his face but looked at him when Alfred told him too. There was a little fluttering of fear in his chest as Alfred gripped his forearm, gently more gently than he had, and guided Arthur to lay with him. Arthur did, settling beside him obediently where Alfred wanted him. "I love you too Alfred.. I'm sorry I just, I'm alright." He said, steadying his breathing. Alfred wouldn't hurt him. Not now, he was safe now. "I'm sorry."

"Arthur, it's alright." He murmured. "He's gone, and I'm not going to hurt you." He said, gentle as he rubbed circles into his back. "It's okay- I promise, you're safe." Alfred crooned, trying to get Arthur to honestly relax. "I trust you not to hurt me...I promise...do you trust me...?" He asked, his blue eye wide. "It's okay if you don't...I hate to see you in pain, and you're afraid, upset...I don't want you to be..." His voice was cajoling, trying to get Arthur to relax and explain himself a bit. "You're safe, we're alone in here..."

Arthur nodded, closing his eyes and taking a shuddering breath. "I, I know.. I know you won't hurt me. I'm sorry I had a moment is all." His vision blurred a little and he reached up to rub his eyes. He laughed a little. Alfred using the same thing to try and calm him. He wanted to confide in Alfred, wanted to tell him but the words stuck in his throat so he leaned against him, resting his head on Alfred's shoulder.

"It's alright." He murmured. "I would be more worried if you took everything in stride, to be honest." Alfred kissed his cheek, gentle, as his hand went up to pet Arthur's hair. "Take all the time you need, I won't pressure you to tell me, even though I want to know...I want to know so that I can help you, just as you've been helping me, my queen. But for now, if this is all you can do, I'm fine with that." Alfred closed his eyes, to enjoy the warmth and shared comfort of the embrace. "Just know that I am here for you, Arthur, whenever you are ready..."

And he was- Alfred had seen glimpses of it, and though Alfred himself was a victim of severe torture, at least that had been overt and plain of what it was- cruel, horrific, meant to cause him pain and make him suffer. Arthur's abuse was...disguised as love, and that was what was sickening. Alfred wouldn't pressure him to do anything- no, but he would be there for him.

Arthur shook slightly, clinging to Alfred and reminding himself Alfred wouldn't harm him, didn't want to. Slowly he sat up and kissed him lightly before pulling away some. "Thank you Alfred...That means so much, but I should be caring for you." That was his place as Queen- to tend to his king, as needed, at least as far as his father had been concerned. "Until you're well enough to be on your feet again."

"Then get back down here." Alfred said stubbornly. "Because, Arthur, I'm worried about you. And if you're challenging me to stand- then by God I will move heaven and earth to show you exactly how motivated I am to make sure you're okay." He said. "I'm injured, yeah. But- I'm not blind- well. That's debatable, but you know what I mean." He corrected himself, trying to crack a joke about his injuries. "I can see you're not well either. And I won't let you coddle me if you don't let me do the same." Alfred's firm voice reminded Arthur that Alfred was a force of nature when he was determined to do something.

Arthur bit his lip slightly before he nodded, shifting to curl against Alfred's side. "Aye, if that's what you want love." He said softly, his fingers curling a little on the bed sheet. "It's… It's good to see you mostly yourself." He added after a minute, just laying with Alfred.

Alfred nodded, squeezing Arthur with his right arm in a tight hug, nuzzling him. "Please, I know that I am...injured." He said, lightly. "However... don't go around treating me like I'm somehow entirely incapable...it's rather belittling, Art." His king revealed. "I know that there are times where I'm not entirely capable, but...I can still hear you, and I definitely can remember it for later...so, trust me to know myself, and my limits. And to be able to determine what is best for me most of the time."

Arthur nodded, closing his eyes and relaxing in Alfred's hold, the hard hug familiar and reassuring. "You have remarkable hearing.." He said after a moment. "To have heard me breaking things so far away." He smiled a little. "I thought, you'd be angry with me, when you saw the bandages." Arthur admitted to him.

"Course not." Alfred murmured, stroking his hair slowly. "Why would I be angry? Concerned, sure...angry, no." He murmured, the sound deep in his chest and Arthur could feel it where he was against his chest. "And… my hearing has been improved substantially. It tends to happen when you're deprived of other senses...I couldn't see, and I was generally chained up, oftentimes off the ground. So, my hearing compensated for a lot of things." He nuzzled Arthur. "So, don't think you can get away with that! Or having an affair!" He smiled, playful. "I'd hear you from anywhere..."

He smiled a little, amused and pressed a little closer. "Wouldn't dream of it love." He said softly, chuckling a little. He wouldn't be able to let anyone else touch him if he wanted to. Shame washing over him a little and he tried his best to ignore it. "I don't, think your brother understood me when I was trying to talk with him. I had wanted to know for sure if your family had owned the land or not. I had suspected as much that you hadn't but you're King now. You and your brother aren't peasantry anymore. It's not a hand out it's simple fact." He said softly, shifting a little. "I hadn't, meant to upset him I was only trying to talk with him as an equal.."

Alfred nodded, ruffling Arthur's hair thoughtfully. "I know, Arthur. Matthew will come around- I promise. His whole point was that, unlike him, you as Queen have established duties and responsibilities. He knew that you couldn't always be around to look after me, which was why he brought up that he was a peasant. He has no job, and is only here to be with me, while you're busy. He didn't mean to upset you either." His voice was sincere, and he kissed his cheek again. "Don't feel bad, I promise he's not upset with you either."

They lay in silence for a bit, before Alfred squeezed him tightly. "Again, I want you to know I'm here for you- and so help me god." He smiled, good-naturedly. "Try and keep me in this bed and you'll quickly find that I have quite the stubborn streak."

Arthur fell quiet again and nodded. "I've been getting you out of bed you stubborn thing. You're just not allowed to stand yet. Your feet and legs haven't finished healing and we still need to make sure your spine properly aligns." He scolded, lifting his head to look at him. "I have it on good authority you're almost well enough to be taken outside to the gardens."

"Try me." Alfred said, challenging him playfully. "My spine be damned, if I'm kept cooped up here against my will, then I will walk out of this castle myself." Though that last bit was an empty threat- he was deathly afraid of being alone at this point- he was entirely serious about not being kept in one place. He smiled, but pulled Arthur back down on top of him, hugging him tighter. "And the same goes if you tell people I'm not able enough again. I'll show you exactly how able I am if I hear you saying stupid things about my capacity."

Arthur's chest tightened and he whispered out a soft "Yes sir." Before he'd stopped himself and he closed his eyes. "I was only following the suggestions of the doctors. The best way to help you heal is all." Arthur licked his lower lip and forced himself to relax against Alfred.

"Arthur...?" He asked, quiet, voice soft. "I was playing...yeah, I don't like being told what to do, but I'm hardly a sir to you..." Alfred slowly stroked his hair. "What's wrong?" He asked, knowing there was something beneath the surface inside of Arthur.

He shifted, leaning slightly into Alfred's hand slightly. "I've, heh, I've been queen for some time now you know. My mother, she died early in the war. I became fathers Queen in her place you know." He took a breath. "It's, a habit I, I suppose..." Arthur told him, curing a little more, trying to make himself smaller against Alfred.

"Arthur, of course I know. But I promise...I'm not like your father... I'd never actually hurt you..." Alfred kissed him softly, rocking back and forth. "It's okay... shhhh... shhh... no need to call me sir, or be worried about me hurting you or leaving. I was just teasing you, I promise..." He smiled. "I wouldn't be able to leave you anyway...I love you too much..."

His fingers curled a little on Alfred's shirt as he rocked him and he took a couple shaky breaths. "I, I know. I know you wouldn't I'm sorry I, it was more reflex than anything." He said softly and tilted his head to be able to look at him. "I know you wouldn't hurt me Alfred."

"It's okay." He murmured. "There's a difference between knowing something and still being afraid. I know you won't hurt me, but I can still be afraid of it happening, even though it's not going to. It's alright to be afraid, I just want you to know I'll support you and give you whatever you need." He kissed him slowly. "I love you, I do..."

Arthur kissed him in return, pressing close and managing to relax again. He smiled more honestly this time and reached up to cup his cheek. "Heh, you're something special Alfred." He said softly, leaning up to kiss him again. It was going to be alright, Alfred was here and they would be there for each other then.

Alfred nodded, before smacking Arthur's butt and letting him go. "Get back to work, my queen." He said, smiling good-naturedly. "I love you, so, so dearly... Don't hurt yourself again, please come before you turn to those sorts of tactics... Can we agree to that?" He asked, wanting his pain medication, and Matthew in here, his body hurting horribly with the effort he had put into sitting up.

Arthur yelped when Alfred slapped his rear and he bit his lip again. "Yes, of course." He said, smiling weakly and shifted a bit. "Do you, want me to have Matthew sent back in?" He asked, reminding himself Alfred loved him, honestly. "Do you need anything?"

"I'd like Matthew...and a nurse." He requested, laying back down and closing his eyes. "And for you to be happy..." He was quiet, but sincere. "Go get your work done...it'll be night soon. I'll ask Matthew to leave if you want to stay here tonight...otherwise, I'll keep him here...you pick."

Arthur nodded. "I'll come spend the night with you. I've gotten used to being at your bedside at night." He said resisting the urge to fidget again and slipping his gloves back on. "I will have Matthew and a nurse set in for you." He added making his way to the door to arrange for that. He simply nodded to Matthew as he passed him and let him know Alfred wanted to see him.

Without pausing much more Arthur made his way back to his chambers, looking over the damage he'd left behind and calling a maid to clean it up while he took a long, hot bath.

Alfred smiled at him, and once Arthur was out of earshot, practically begged for pain medication, his smile crumpling. "Can't have him thinking he can push me around jus' 'cause I'm injured." Alfred smiled, Matthew rolling his eyes at how stubborn his twin could be even as he took his hand and let him squeezed it to get through the pain until the medication hit and sent him off into la-la land.

Matthew sat beside him; gently stroking his hair as Alfred babbled to him about things- sometimes it was clear the topics were painful, but Alfred was so detached he didn't care...it was sad to hear him talking about himself like that...but... It was just Alfred, and there wasn't anything he could do about that, so he listened, and let Alfred cry dramatically before laughing hard, the medication's sedating effects drawing out madness inside him.

XXXXX

Arthur took his bath, scrubbing his skin red and rinsing off, repeating the process a few times before he finally got out of his bath and dried off. When he entered his room again it had been cleaned up and Arthur dropped onto his bed ad cried again, curling against his pillows. After a few hours Arthur slipped out of his bed, dressing again and making his way back to the infirmary. He knocked softly before stepping inside.

Matthew had gotten Alfred to sleep, and stood up. He nodded at Arthur. "He took pain medication already- don't give him any more until tomorrow morning." He said, rubbing his eyes as he walked to his room. "I thought you weren't coming, honestly..." He yawned. "It's late. I need to sleep-Alfred's already out."

Arthur bit his tongue as Matthew spoke and just nodded and when Matthew was gone he shut the door to the room. Looking over at the bed Arthur shuffled over, siting in the chair beside it and watching Alfred sleep. Leaning forward Arthur rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes, falling asleep there.

What woke Arthur only a bit later was grumbling noises, and his body being manhandled.

"Man, for as much as you complain about me being stubborn..." Alfred muttered sleepily, trying to bring Arthur onto his bed, having moved his body to one side to leave more room for cuddling, the covers at his feet for the moment. "Why do you sleep like this? Do you enjoy having cricks in your neck? I have no clue..." Alfred was trying hard, and was getting somewhere, but the whole effort was very, very slow.

When Arthur woke, fear gripped him tight and he let out a scared sound, stiffening. "No… _please_..." He mumbled, even as he shifted obediently and climbed onto the bed. Still half asleep, Arthur started to undo the buttons of his shirt- much to Alfred's horror.

Alfred paused, feeling Arthur's stiff form and hearing frightened words, and paused, whispering. "Arthur...? It's okay." He mumbled, pulling the covers over them and laying back down as he cuddled up with him. "Just close your eyes, I'm going back to sleep, you should too...its okay, Arthur."

Arthur hesitated at his words, waking a little more. He stopped as Alfred pulled him against his chest. "Alfred...?" He asked groggily, slowly relaxing as he realized who was holding him, taking his hands away from his own shirt, and he tucked himself under Alfred's chin. His fingers curled on Alfred's shirt and he just nodded, closing his eyes again.

"Yeah, it's me..." He whispered, rubbing tiny circles between his shoulder blades. "Sorry for waking you up, I wanted you on the bed with me...I've gotcha..." He murmured, giving Arthur a moment to settle down before Alfred would close his eyes and go back to sleep. "Shhhhh...it's okay...you're okay..."

Arthur relaxed after a bit, calming down his breathing evened out as he drifted back to sleep. Arthur slept fairly peacefully after that, twitching slightly in his sleep now and then but mostly stayed curled against Alfred.

XXXXX

When he woke the next morning Arthur stayed where he was, pretending to sleep a bit longer, frozen in fright. He didn't open his eyes- didn't dare to. He was afraid of who it might be.

Alfred woke shortly after, shifting a bit as he stretched, before wrapping his arms around Arthur lovingly. "Hey...you awake?" He whispered to Arthur, stroking his hair lightly, attempting not to wake him if he was actually still asleep.

Alfred had stayed up a while to make sure Arthur had been okay, and so yawned a bit, still sleepy, but he didn't mind it so much. It was for Arthur, after all... Arthur was silly to have slept like that, he would have eventually hit his head or fallen over, and Alfred loved cuddling in his sleep... well actually, Alfred just liked cuddling...

Arthur stiffened for a second at the motion, before relaxing as Alfred spoke. "Yes." He said shifting a bit to look at him. "Morning Alfred." He said with a soft smile. He pulled his shirt together, having unbuttoned most of it when Alfred had pulled him into bed.

"Are you alright?" He asked, concerned. "You worried me...you looked so scared when you woke up..." Alfred hand cupped his chin, kissing his forehead. "Sorry for frightening you, I just...didn't want you to sleep like that, it looked rather uncomfortable." He squeezed him tighter. "And why were you undressing, of all things...?"

Arthur smiled a little more honestly until Alfred asked why he'd been undressing. Licking his lip and focused on Alfred's collarbone. "A queen has, certain duties to their king is all..." He answered evenly, smoothing the fabric of Alfred's shirt. Hoping Alfred would understand, he didn't want to say anymore.

Alfred looked appalled. "Arthur...I've never done that to you...meaning..." He frowned, his eyes wide. "Your father?" He asked, before he hugged Arthur tight, wanting to be able to make everything right for him. "Arthur...Arthur, I'm so sorry, my beloved."

Arthur bit his lip, startling a little as Alfred held him tight. "I, it's alright I, he's gone now- I made sure of it." He said softly, clinging to him. "I'm alright..." He'd been worried Alfred would pull away from him, disgusted with him. "I hadn't, wanted to tell you, especially right now." While Alfred was recovering, he didn't need Arthur's problems on his own.

"Arthur, I know he's gone." He murmured, gently stroking his hair as he squeezed him tight to his chest. "Don't worry about it, I love you Arthur...I just wish that I could have protected you better...I'm so sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you. You're wonderful..." He kissed his forehead. "Don't worry about that, I can help you shoulder your burdens just as you help me with mine." He kissed him gently. "I love you...I love you so much."

Arthur clung tightly to him and took in a shaky breath. "Thank you Alfred, it's alright. There's no way you could have known." Slowly he pulled back a little bit to look up at him. "Thank you."

Alfred squeezed him tightly, before letting him go. "It's nothing. I love you, and I will support you no matter what. No need to hide anything from this, okay?" He smiled reassuringly. "I'll support you always."

He nodded a little and sighed. "Just, please, right now focus on your own recovery." He said, resting a hand on his arm and laying forward to kiss him lightly. "You're healing well and I'm looking forward to having you on your feet soon."

Alfred grinned, laying back down as he accepted his sweet kiss. "Alright, alright... but, don't think I can't handle this as well as your problems and worries. It's my duty as King..." He reminded. "Send Matthew in whenever you see fit, but I'd rather not be left alone..." He admitted, his smile dimming. "It's harder...to keep control on myself if I'm alone."

Arthur rubbed his arm. "I'm not doubting you Alfred I just want you to be sure you're letting yourself heal. That's all." He said, leaning over him to rest their foreheads together. "You're a good man Alfred. Strong and determined I know you can handle a lot but, I worry about you too so please, for my sake let yourself heal properly." He started to leave before he remembered something and stopped. "Oh yes would you like me to give you your pain medicine?" He hadn't been sure about giving it to him himself, he didn't know the extent the images of him went before and he hadn't wanted to trigger something.

"I'll know that you're worried about me." He mumbled. "Thank you...and...ah. I'll wait until I won't be left alone for a time period before I'll take my medication." He admitted, shrugging.

"Is something wrong with it?" Arthur asked of his King, who averted his gaze a bit, shrugging.

Alfred coughed before speaking again. "It's alright, Arthur... don't worry about it, but it'll be better if I wasn't left alone... I just want Matt in here…"

Arthur knew there was something more to it, but only nodded before he left the room. He sent Matthew in to see Alfred and then had to go about his duties for the day. After all, he still had a kingdom to run, and the nobles had ordained to visit him in this trying time.

Alfred watched as he left, and closed his eyes in resignation.

"Your brother won't be here for a while longer." The doctor said as he walked in. Arthur was too busy to watch the staff- that was fine with Alfred. But… something felt off about this new doctor, as he waited for the dreaded moment where the drugs would take away his ability to move and think clearly.

"Well, you know what comes next, Alfred- the nobles have been paying me nicely to take over your care… and they've paid me more now, to give you this." The man took out a shining needle, and Alfred whimpered at the sight, his good eye's pupil shrinking in fear.

That wasn't… anything he'd been taking here…no. He recognized that concoction all too well…

"You know what this is, mm?" The man's smile was gruesome. "Well, it won't be long now… I suppose there's no harm in telling you that you're going to go right back to your home…in prison, false King."

Alfred didn't even have time to cry for help before the man stabbed the needle into his neck, and his eyes rolled back up into his head as his body went into spasms.

"Best get reacquainted with it, Rag Card." The words rang around him like a death toll as he fell into darkness once more.

XXXXX

_From a letter to a Royal Doctor, from an unnamed noble-_

_Certainly, we've paid you well enough. You say that this is an angle, but might I remind you of what is at stake here. There are no angles, no unethical motions. He is a false King, whether or not he's aware of it isn't of our concern._

_I have sent attached a "welcome home" gift for the traitorous Rag Card. It should keep him out of commission long enough that we may reveal the Queen's lies to the people…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehehe.....don't kill me? chapter 7 will be a flashback to when Alfred was a general and Arthur's father was alive, explaining how Alfred wound up in prison!


	7. Muck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahha, so you will finally learn the original story behind Alfred, get to see how he used to act, and know how he and Arthur came to know each other. As you saw from last chapter, there is definitely some shit going down in Spades, but more on that later. I feed off your pain. King David is poker slang for the King of Spades- and it'll be used primarily to refer to Arthur's father, and not Alfred.

2 years into the war, and after field promotion after field promotion, Alfred Jones was now the youngest General in Spades history. At 19 years old, he was the star of the war against Clubs- a proud man leading a proud country. He was adored by many, and revered by others.

And he was finally being granted an audience with the King and the future Queen of Spades! He had left his family behind for this cause, and he hopped that he would be rewarded for his efforts.

He was cleaned up from the warfront, and ushered in to the room in order to get sat with the other generals around the room. There was a speech about him from his previous superior, who looked damned proud to say that he had trained Alfred from day 1, and had enjoyed watching Alfred come so, so far.

There was one person who didn't seem happy for Alfred. Well, they didn't seem happy at all.

He didn't immediately recognize them, but due to their relative youth and the fact they were seated to the right of the King…Alfred assumed this person had to be the future Queen Arthur.

The man's green eyes flitted to him, giving Alfred the impression the young man felt like a hounded animal as his father's hand fell heavily on his shoulder. Overbearing dad? No, it seemed different. He didn't want to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

"Arthur, this is General Alfred." The King of Spades announced stiffly, shoving the future queen toward him carelessly. Alfred caught him so he didn't tumble over, shocked by how Arthur pulled himself out of his grip as though it had burnt him.

"Hello, my future Queen." Alfred said in a kind, but commanding voice, before in a hushed whisper adding. "Hi, sorry- d you wanna go outside to get some air? You look ready to pass out."

Arthur stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. He didn't confirm, or deny, just stared. So Alfred herded him out of the war tent. "C'mon." He smiled.

XXXXX

The more he talked, the less Arthur liked him. Of course, he was handsome, but he had this weird sort of need to take care of Arthur. Certainly the bastard pitied him, or something, or just wanted to be a suck up to the future ruler of Spades.

At the moment, Arthur was tired. He wanted to go home and rest. His father had him run ragged, and he didn't much appreciate people he didn't know butting their heads into Arthur's business.

When the General took him out of the tent, he gave him the look. His father wouldn't be pleased. The boy didn't seem to understand his incredulity, so he followed him, if only to get this over with.

"Man, it's stuffy in there!" He said with a grin. "Your dad seems rough. You look exhausted!"

He honestly didn't want to admit that Alfred was right, even though he was incredibly surprised he was. "It's nothing to worry about." He muttered. "As future queen, I have duties to the King." Heh, _duties_ \- if that was what he could call his father's use of him.

"Still, they're just circle jerking." The general said with a grin. "You can step out."

He hid his guffaw at the crude language with a snort. He'd have to file that insult away for later. "Thank you for your concern, but it is truly unwanted. So, I will go back inside now, and you should pray that my father hasn't noticed our absence." Since it would very easily be the end of Alfred's life.

Alfred stared at him, something sad in his eyes. "There's something you're not telling me, but I want you too. I don't just serve your father, you know. I'm supposed to serve you as well."

"What is intended and what truly happens are often very different things. The road to hell, dear General, is paved with good intentions." He said coldly, refusing to let this interloper have the time of day. He knew it would only end poorly for the young man. Best to let him have a good life, with Arthur and his mad father far, far away.

He walked away, throat closing out of nervousness, before relief washed over him as he saw his father wasn't watching him, and he knew that this rendezvous would be kept _secret_.

It was for the best, even if the young golden haired General didn't understand that.

XXXXX

The young man was persistent. Arthur would give him that.

It had been weeks of being out in the warring zone between Clubs and Spades, with Diamonds allies fighting off in a different region. The General had been ever so persistently trying to break down Arthur's fragile walls. It had been a month since they had met.

They were on the eve of battle, and Arthur had simply been taking a moment to enjoy the scenic air outside when the young General Jones had accompanied him in refusal to let him walk around on his own. "Look! I can take care of myself!"

"I know that." Alfred said, completely taking him aback, making him splutter.

"Then why don't you leave me alone?" Arthur all but shouted at him, but Alfred smiled gently, shaking his head and chuckling as Arthur felt confused and for some strange reason ready to cry in frustration and upset, before Alfred spoke and broke the spell.

"Because even though you can take care of yourself… you shouldn't have to always look after yourself. You have people willing to help you. That's what friends are for, aren't they?"

Arthur stared at the kind blue eyes hidden just behind glasses, but somehow he felt that no one else had been so open in caring about him his whole life, not from the moment his mother had died and left him alone.

Alfred gasped, and then tackled him. The brute was much larger than him. Not by height, but by weight and width. He wasn't soft, Arthur was. But rather, all that military training had left him with broad shoulders and big muscles capable of lifting heavy swords and artillery.

"What on earth are you doing?" Arthur shouted, forgoing the proper protocol in his complete shock, before a flaming arrow ripped through the air he had been occupying just a moment before and causing cold hard fear to sink through his carefully constructed mask and freeze him.

Alfred didn't mind this, and grabbed him as though he was a bride, hitching him up and taking off at a run. "No time to explain!" He said loudly. "Surely, your majesty, you know some spells correct?" He asked for assistance as arrows rained down on them from above.

"Only simple ones!" He answered, staring over Alfred's shoulder.

"What about an invisibility spell? A shield spell?" Alfred suggested quickly. "I know them!" He quickly set Arthur down, putting his arm in front of Arthur as he quickly muttered ancient Spadian words, and cast a shielding spell. A large force field, in the shape of a massive Spade, covered them from arrow fire, as Alfred picked Arthur back up. "Lets go." He murmured as the arrows died off, Arthur staring in awe.

Alfred picked him back up, and Arthur no longer had the heart to deny his own desires.

His prickly mask fell away, replaced by exhaustion, and he felt the young man's chuckle reverberate deep in his chest as the queen fell asleep tucked in his strong arms.

From that moment on, Alfred had finally cracked Arthur's tough outer shell.

XXXXX

"Look, I'm not going to do it." Alfred growled at the man. "I will not betray my King and future Queen."

Alfred had been assigned to the palace in reward for keeping the future Queen of Spades safe. It was an interesting switch from living out on the battlefield, where peasants asked him questions and he gladly gave them. Here a large wall surrounding the palace kept out the common people. He had imagined the capital to be a very different place than it was.

And now he was the target of various people that could easily get him in a lot of trouble.

"General, you know as well as I do that the aristocracy are simply being barbarians. They will run Spades to the ground if we do not change things!"

Revolutionaries had pinned him as a potential champion of their cause. Many of them were of the aristocracy themselves. Alfred was presumed to be a member of them as well. Simply put, he wasn't. He hadn't brought any papers, and his confidence to admit that had gotten him into a very tight spot. They had thought the reason he had been so confident was because his family was very affluent. His mother and father were both farmers, working the fields to pay off the debt of their grandparents, who themselves had been grandfathered into servitude.

Alfred sighed. "Look- I don't agree with their plan to marry the future Queen off without actually knowing who the King is. The guy they're planning on marrying him to is despicable as well. But, I cannot betray him. Arthur would be at risk if I were caught, and more at risk even if I were to do as you suggested."

"Arthur is at risk!" The revolutionary pointed out. "Spades and all the other leaders of Cards are chosen by the appearance of tattoos. They plan to eradicate the system in Spades and choose officials from the aristocracy."

"The people would never allow them to put in place a false King." Alfred said, firmly. "I know them. And the King undoubtedly has some sort of spell to tell him who the next King is."

"Then why is the official they're marrying our Queen off to the richest bachelor in Spades?" He pointed out. "And the people aren't allowing it. That is why we're coming to you!"

"I can't." He shook his head. "I can't betray Arthur's trust like that. Besides, if I'm caught as a revolutionary…they'll undoubtedly look deeper into my linage. And I cannot allow that."

The revolutionary's eyes only widened. "I knew it! You're a-!"

Alfred shut him up with a hand to the mouth. "No one knows! I had lost my paperwork when I joined the army and no one ever bothered to look for my parents! They'd be in danger as well if they found out that my family isn't from aristocracy!"

The man nodded, suddenly serious. "Alfred, I'm simply going to tell you- you're playing a dangerous game. Please. Do think about this offer. You might regret not taking the chance sooner if this comes crashing down on your head."

"I can't take it though." He firmly denied the man, who left him quietly. "There is a lot I can't do, but I can protect Arthur from myself and whatever might happen if you succeed."

The General walked back to his post at the palace, looking down at the ground.

XXXXX

"Alfred!" Arthur shouted, pleased to see him from atop the tailor's stand, where he was being stitched into a new outfit.

"Hey, Art." He grinned, the motion half as happy as it usually was.

Green eyes dimmed. That was right. He was…

"The wedding outfit looks fantastic." The tailor said smugly. "My greatest work so far, your majesty."

He wouldn't deny that it was beautiful, for it was, but it was the outfit he would wear to his wedding. Arthur's father, the King, had sold him off like a heifer at an auction to the highest bidder- that bidder of course being the most insufferable moron the aristocracy could offer.

"It does look good." Alfred agreed with an amicable smile, wistful, wishful thinking hidden carefully behind his eyes. "You will make a beautiful bride, despite that you are no maiden."

Arthur laughed humorously. "Thank you tailor, I will disrobe myself. I must talk with my General for a moment about the war."

The tailor nodded, allowing Arthur to have the moment to himself even as he questioned if the Queen even knew how to disrobe himself.

The truth was, he didn't, but the moment the door was shut, Alfred took the courtesy upon himself with a gentle kiss and calloused hands removing the clothes in the most innocent way possible. What Arthur appreciated most about Alfred was that he didn't try to force anything on him; unlike the horrific aristocrat he was being married to: Robert Hardy, who was damned certain on getting into Arthur's pants. He didn't need anyone else doing it without his full permission.

Alfred was so wonderful, helping him redress in his usual wear around the Castle.

"You do look good in it, even if you are not to be married to me." He murmured. Arthur nodded slowly.

"I wish I was being married to you, honestly." He muttered. "He is a right…prick. He enjoys killing animals for fun, and I heard he ate the flesh of a peasant because he doesn't even believe them to be human!" Arthur angrily looked at the floor. "My father is the one making me do this."

"You know, Arthur…he's manipulating you. You do have a choice here." Alfred reminded tentatively.

He laughed. "My father? My choice? You're being ridiculous, Alfred."

"I'm not!" And his blue eyes gleamed mischievously with a plan to thwart the King and his plan to marry the future Queen to a person who was not in certainty the future King.

XXXXX

"I am not marrying him." Arthur said, voice smug as he carried in a large history book, with dog-eared pages and bookmark flags in it to show it had been well used, and it would be well used again in find his loophole.

"What do you mean, not marrying him?" The King's voice was hard, blue eyes unfeeling. This was the man who gave away his youngest child to the jokers to preserve his throne after he had killed the previous queen. This was the man who launched revenge attacks on those who had killed all 4 of his other non-joker children, beside Arthur.

He wasn't ever told _no_. And until this day, Arthur had never defied him either. It was a thrilling experience.

He opened the book, and with a heavy breath, blew away the dust.

"It is hereby decreed, by the original Spade, that all my true descendants must be those who break fate. The titles of Jack, Queen and King, are not to be passed down from parent to child- but rather, any of those individuals who carry within them the true Spirit of Spades within them can have the Mark of Spades."

He closed the book. "There are ancient laws and magic spells that our original Queen set into place to prevent the monarchy from being passed down through family." He said, barely hiding his smugness. "I will not marry a false king, father, or I will invoke the rage of the god who bestowed upon Spades our magical powers- our ability to change the way things are."

The King stared, before waving away his son. "Fine." He muttered, suspicion growing in his eyes as whispers of rebellion against the King, and the idea of placing the next Queen on the throne would become known throughout the palace, unless he firmly quashed them now.

Looking outside of his window, he saw something of interest. One of his Generals, the young one, was accepting the old book of Spadian History from his son…and a kiss on the cheek as well. So there was the source of his child's insolence…

This would not be, not while he was the King of Spades- namely, not when he was King David of the Great War.

He sent his spy to create the damning evidence himself.

XXXXX

The two had been out celebrating the loss of his fiancé, who Alfred had taken to calling Sir Monster.

"Francis will have a field day once he hears the news." Arthur admitted, giddy off the excitement of finally throwing his father's shackles off him. "He's been writing to tell me not to accept the marriage for ages! He will undoubtedly want to meet you!"

"We _have_ met, your majesty, in war councils." Alfred hummed, standing by Arthur as inconspicuously close as possible in public. "King Francis of Diamonds seems like a lovely man, if a bit…overzealous."

Arthur snorted in amusement. "So you understand his quirks as well as I, then?"

"He once told me he had no idea why I hadn't been more to Diamonds, and that I should leave this kingdom for his. However, I am a Spade through and through." He smiled at Arthur, gently rubbing his hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't dream of leaving Spades now that I have you, my Queen."

Arthur giggled, shaking his head. "Quiet! I am not Queen yet, dear knight." He whisked the two of them to a quiet corner, and leaned into his embrace. "But I am glad to hear you say it, beloved."

"You'll never be queen." An unfamiliar voice came through the silence of their embrace as a gun was pointed at them. Arthur gasped as Alfred shoved him behind and drew his sword to protect him.

He pointed it at the man's throat as people gasped around them. "Leave. You are not wanted or needed here." He said, voice commanding. Merchants and customers stared at the one who had threatened their Queen in anger.

"I will kill you." He murmured. "We will see you fall, Alfred Jones, and when that day comes…everything you love will turn against you."

With the ominous words, the spy left, people glaring him down, as Alfred truly wondered why the guards hadn't bothered to protect their queen. Something smelled fishy, but he didn't know what it was.

He ignored it for the time being- he had a queen who needed his reassurance.

XXXXX

Arthur glanced around as Alfred spoke to the man outside. "Please. If nothing else, make sure he doesn't stumble in on us..." Alfred beamed. "The future queen has asked it of you."

"Yes, milord." His squire nodded, a young thing with a head of brunette hair and a firm face, taking guard outside their room. The new couple didn't want those who could be their enemies to discover them so early on. "I hope you'll stay safe as well, your majesty." The boy whispered to Arthur, who waved him off at first.

Arthur shook himself from his thoughts and dove into worry, he'd wanted so badly to give himself to Alfred, he'd never known just why. Maybe a part of him knew that this man truly loved him. He hadn't been able to bring himself to stop it or truly give himself to Alfred, the stolen kisses and closeness enough for the time. He needed to truly thank this child for daring to defy the King.

"Thank you, my boy. My father has a lot of the staff here either terrified of him or worshiping him. He is a terrible man with a silver tongue. I dread to think of what might happen to our dear General if he were to find out… So, thank you for being amongst the handful I can trust."

The Squire nodded, agreeing and sitting back down in silence. No one else was going to come in here- it was safe for them at the moment, safe for Arthur to let his guard down for the time being...

Alfred looked up to him slowly. "Alone at last." He smiled brightly, kissing Arthur's hand lovingly and making the Queen-to-be blush. "Hmmm...wanna cuddle...?" He whispered, kissing Arthur full on the lips. "Or…do something else?"

Arthur was a little surprised by the kiss but kissed him back before settling onto the bed beside him. "Alright, alright, cuddles it is." Arthur agreed shifting to allow Alfred to hold him against his chest. "You're so cute, Alfred." He said softly, running his fingers through Alfred's hair and chuckling softly.

Alfred had wrapped his arms around him, and pulled Arthur tight against him, his head resting in the crook of his shoulder, Alfred's hand on his head holding him there. "Mmm…" Alfred hummed, the sound in Arthur's ears as he felt the covers come over them, Alfred holding him down and keeping him still, kissing the top of his head as he curled up with him.

Arthur let Alfred hold him, listening to the sound of Alfred's breathing for a bit before he shifted slightly. His fingers curled on Alfred's shirt and he bit his lip. Alfred holding him so close and still was fine for a bit but every time he closed his eyes his chest tightened. "A-Alfred, could, hn, could you loosen your hold a bit… please I-I need to move some..."

Alfred opened his eyes, worried, and allowed himself to become gentler, caressing Arthur's head and rubbing his back and neck, simply wanting him to become more comfortable with himself and this arrangement. He wanted Arthur to trust him, and Arthur sounded scared... he didn't want to scare Arthur...

When Alfred loosened his hold on him Arthur managed to relax a little and leaned into the touch. "Thank you, I'm sorry I just, I don't like being held down is all..." He said softly, looking at Alfred's face now and offering a small smile.

Alfred understood that... He nodded, gentle and easy with his affections to Arthur, pulling him up into a easy and sincere kiss, which deepened quickly and caused Alfred to press into him, needy for affection himself, of a different sort.

Arthur was happy to press into the kiss, though when Alfred deepened it his breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes again. Idly he had the feeling he was forgetting something but all he could think about was how close Alfred was, the way he kissed him. He brought a hand up to cup Alfred's cheek. "You…y-you can…do something else, Alfred." He whispered, slightly embarrassed because he had to ask. "I won't stop you…"

With a reassuring smile, Alfred's hand went to Arthur's crotch as their lips met, and it pressed lightly, before palming him more desperately, pulling away from a kiss to pant a bit, and his eyes fogged over with desire. He often dreamt of having sex with Arthur these days, it wasn't a surprise that his brain brought it up now that Arthur was here with him again and they weren't on the battlefield. He wasn't thinking that all the way through- since they would both be in danger from Arthur's father if they were caught… but he kissed Arthur again, intensely aroused and wanting Arthur to be was well.

Arthur let out a soft moan when Alfred palmed him, pressing against his hand and his pulse picking up. "A-Alfred." He whispered before they were kissing again. His chest felt tight but he ignored it in favor of focusing on Alfred's hand. Arthur broke the kiss this time, breathing heavily and pulled back some to look at Alfred's face and remind himself who was touching him, that it was alright. "Hn, _Alfred_ …"

Alfred smiled at him slowly, and nodded. "It's alright, Arthur." He said reassuringly, peppering his face in light kisses. "What do you want from me...?" He asked, squeezing Arthur's growing erection.

He moaned again, pressing closer and feeling his face heat up as Alfred peppered him with kisses. "I could, hn ask you the same thing. Touching me like this." Arthur answered Alfred's hand pulling another moan from him as he hid his face against his shoulder. He could still muster the courage to huff at him, like he always had before. "Hah!" It was somewhat embarrassing to be aroused so easily like this.

He slipped Arthur's pants down off of him, and started to rub his cock harshly, keeping Arthur's face focused on Alfred's own. "It's me, Arthur, just keep that in mind...and please...I'll give you whatever it is you want, just tell me..." He squeezed Arthur's erection a bit more, trying to show him what he was offering.

Arthur hadn't even realized they weren't alone, bucking up against Alfred's hand. "A-Aye, Alfred hn, I want... hah I want you, I've hn, missed you so much Alfred..." He said blushing a deeper red as he kissed him. "Just, give me you."

"Keep your eyes on me, then..." Alfred murmured, kissing him again, not having any lube or oil to stretch him with, but there was plenty Alfred could do without penetration, yes... Having undone Arthur's pants, he slid down his body, and wrapped his mouth around the tip of Arthur's cock, suckling him and moaning softly around him, before he pulled away and licked up the side his cock, meeting Arthur's gaze for a moment, and wrapping the tip with his tongue, pulling it back into his mouth, and then going down the length of his cock, deep-throating Arthur easily, sucking hard on his erection, simply wanting to bring Arthur pleasure.

Arthur watched him, surprised as Alfred went down on him, his fingers fisting in Alfred's hair and he bit into his other hand to quiet himself. He felt a shudder roll through him when his eyes met Alfred's and he moaned again, doing his best to keep still. "O-Oh god, hah, Alfred!" His mouth felt wonderful and it was all Arthur could so to hold back.

But, Alfred didn't want him to be "still". He hummed, and bobbed up on his cock while sucking hard on him, dragging his teeth along very, very lightly, his tongue moving up against his hard, throbbing skin teasingly. Once Alfred was at the very tip, he swirled his tongue around it, his hands gently squeezing his balls before touching his taint, the highly sensitive skin between Arthur's cock and asshole, trying to make him cum then and there, his head going back down to deep-throat him. He wanted to make this quick, to reassure Arthur that he was wanted and loved.

He hadn't had this much attention on him before, his pleasure had never mattered but here Alfred seemed intent on driving him over the edge. "A-Alfred~! I'm-!" Was all the warning He managed before his climax hit, Arthur bit into his hand again, bucking against Alfred ad tugging his hair. Moaning, his body tight as pleasure washed over him. "Ahn!"

As Arthur came into his mouth, Alfred paused and waited, and then swallowed, before he pulled away, Arthur's hands slightly painful in his hair, but it was worth it to give Arthur a sexually pleasurable experience. The king moved back up in the bed, pulling the covers over Arthur's bared bottom form, and kissed his cheek softly. "Was that good...?" He asked, tentatively stroking Arthur's hair, waiting for Arthur's hand to leave his hair but not pressing the issue much.

As Arthur came down from his high his hold on Alfred's hair loosened and he brushed his fingers through it apologetically. "Yes…" He whispered, kissing him and not minding the taste of himself on Alfred's tongue. "You haven't yet..." He said, wondering if Alfred planned to stop here, his own hand trailing down Alfred's chest and lower to cup him.

"Shhh…" Alfred hushed him gently. "I don't have any lube..." He whispered. "Meaning, we should wait. I wanted you...you to have something to look forward to, though." Alfred nuzzled him slowly. "Unless you want to...?" He trailed off, really just wanting to give Arthur a new feeling of having sex, and reminding him who he was with- this was Alfred, not his father- _Alfred_.

Arthur flushed a little as he watched Alfred's face, searching for something. When he didn't find it Arthur's shoulders relaxed some and he kissed him softly, his hand coming up to rest on his chest. "I do, want to… I could, get some, I'm sure there's lotion or something in the room here." He said, embarrassed but smiling a little. Alfred had already done so much to help ease his fears.

"No, no… it's okay." Alfred reassured him gently. "We can at another time. We have your entire reign, don't we...? And the war between then and now." He asked, stroking Arthur's back and finding his favorite spot to have massaged. "There's no rush on anything...we can simply relax here, and you can trust that there's no one out there that'll hurt you, ever again."

Arthur pressed into the touch, relaxing against Alfred and curling against him. "Yes, that's true, we have time, I'm sure." He said softly, enjoying the way Alfred held him- _touched_ him. It meant so much to him that Alfred was willing to wait, to leave it here it was for now. He didn't want to admit this out loud…but he often thought of Alfred, when his father would call him to his chambers, and try to pretend it was Alfred. It helped to block it out.

He was afraid though, that if he told Alfred, that his beloved would turn his back on him… The words filled him with bile and his eyes squeezed shut.

After a moment Arthur bit his lip. "I'm sorry I... I need to stop, but… after something so wonderful… I don't want to…" He felt like he certainly shouldn't bring up his father while he lay curled safely in Alfred's arms. But he wanted to tell someone, needed too, and Alfred had wanted him to come to him, the man who loved him.

But the words didn't leave his mouth.

"It's alright my love." Alfred murmured gently, kissing his forehead as he encouraged him to take his time. "I'm so glad that you said that, at least. I will never force you into anything." Alfred's hands gently rubbed Arthur's back, hugging Arthur to reassure him that Alfred wasn't ever going to let him go.

"Arthur, it's alright my love." He comforted, sweet and kind with him. "I promise you- I will never leave you. I hope that I have proved that I am most certainly going to love and cherish you." Alfred's hand cupped Arthur's head, letting Arthur hide himself in Alfred's own embrace. "Whenever you need to talk to me…I promise that I will listen for as long as you need."

Arthur shook a little against him, tears beading at the corners of his eyes and he clung to Alfred, hiding his face against his chest and cried quietly. "I love you Alfred, so much... I'm scared you will be taken away from me." He whispered. The evening couldn't come soon enough, to move him somewhere safer. When Arthur had calmed down some and stopped crying he pulled away a bit. "I've gone and dirtied your shirt." He said, smiling a little at his own lame attempt at joking.

"Don't worry about it." Alfred murmured sleepily, having been dozing a bit as Arthur cried against him, his body having been comforting him mindlessly for a time now. "You needed that." He smiled sweetly. "I would not dream of taking that away from you, Arthur. I love you far too much."

He smiled a bit again, more honestly now and kissed him. "Let's, get some rest, yes? You look tired and I, I want to sleep in your arms again." He said, cuddling up against him and relaxing there. He felt better, much better than he had in a long time.

Alfred was quick to fall into slumber, letting Arthur follow suit easily, wrapping his arms loosely around his queen in sleep.

XXXXX

The peace was not to last.

In the middle of the night, Alfred had simply woken, and gone out to the hallway to think about his life, a smile playing on his lips as he thought of the queen in bed, and his loyal knight at his side.

"Have you done as I asked, my Jack?"

As he walked by a door, barely ajar, the end for him became known.

"Yes, sir. I have found out his true origins. He is a rag card, your majesty. And he is sleeping in your son's bedchambers." It was the Jack, a crooked man known for crooked things. "I tracked down his family. They are farmers in the South, by the coastline, your grace."

Alfred remained still, his breath caught in his throat as he heard the next piece.

"He was seen speaking with a rebel group's leader today." The Jack's voice, smooth and greasy like oil, hid the truth while still speaking it. Alfred had protected his son from the rebel leader, by drawing his sword and warning him to leave.

"How neatly things work out." The king rumbled, a pleasured sound that revealed the sickly smile as Alfred backed away- they were! They were planning on taking him! "The boy is a traitor. If he is in my son's bedchamber, than he should be remarkably easy to capture. Send the order, my Jack."

He kept backing away, and once he was far enough to know that they wouldn't hear him, the knight, now labeled traitor, _ran_.

If they caught him… then he knew the punishment was to be mucked. They wouldn't give him a trial, they wouldn't bother to know more…they would simply kill him and eliminate the threat.

His heart burned as he realized that he was leaving his queen, but he knew that would be where they would first check. He leapt out of the window, landing in the stables area, putting on the clothes of a stable boy before grabbing a horse, and trying to calmly leave the city.

He was out before the sun rose on Arthur's bedchamber, showing him to be alone once again, but the alarms had been raised.

The manhunt was on in search of Alfred Jones.

XXXXX

It was over all too fast. Not even 3 days after it had been announced, he had been cornered. It was over the moment someone had stolen his horse and in his panic had revealed his face to soldiers in the desperation to get some support. The townspeople had fought off the men, once his men and no longer so, and though Alfred had made it away for the time being, he was cornered.

"It's over, Jones." The King was there, staring at him coldly. "You're a traitor to the kingdom. You have been in league with rebel groups, plotting to overthrow me, and thereby give the entirety of Spades to hell."

"Sir! I have done no such thing!" He said, his mouth finally finding the voice he needed. "I would never hurt him! I love him! I _protected_ Arthur-!"

"Your _dalliance_ with the future Queen has been noted." He scoffed, interrupting his speech of how this was a misunderstanding. "I refuse to hear your words any longer. Men, take him, and bring him to the prison in the North. From there we will figure out what to do with you, traitorous _Donk_."

Alfred shook his head, mouth moving silently as tears came unbidden to his eyes. He couldn't die here! Arthur needed him! His family and country needed him! This couldn't be happening!

He tried to run forward, break out of their hold, but another broke his glasses, the shards getting into his eye and making him scream in pain, crumpling to the ground as he gasped.

They snickered at him, bleeding and blinded, dropping him to the floor before dragging him by his hands and feet in a humiliating reminder that he was captured, and he would be dead soon enough.

Except that was not to be.

XXXXX

_It is long past time we mucked the false General, and you should get him in your care shortly before you receive my letter. We believed that he was not of any status for far to long to have let this charade keep going. If he is, as rumors suggest from the whispers of my cowardly opponents, a rag card, the entire regime could collapse because of him. And I am not willing to risk that- not even to win a war._

_However, now that we possess him can use him for an alternative purpose. My son is a horrible Queen, and we all know this. He refused the offering we gave him, intent on dawdling with the godforsaken traitor._

_Let's see how much my son will like him once you lot have finished with the traitor. He requires some grooming first, of course, take what you will of his family should you find it to cement anything in his mind. Leave nothing of the man we call Alfred F. Jones and give me the new Jones, and perhaps he will finally do me some good and kill off the whore of a Queen with his own lover._

_Burn this letter after you receive it._

_King David._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheh...... comment if you have critiques/concerns/enjoyed it? 
> 
> The next chapter should come out quicker! (its already mostly written!) and the chapter after that...also should come out soon! (I have it plotted out).


	8. Discard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, it came out preeeetty quickly. enjoy! We're getting pretty close to the end, so there might be a longer break than originally intended between this chapter and the next, but i'll try to keep up the pace.
> 
> leave kudos/comment if you liked it/have a critique!

Hours after he had left to get his work done, the Queen of Spades knocked on the door to alert those inside he'd be coming in to see Alfred. Arthur was excited, about the discussion of the night before, and of thoughts of the future. Alfred had been largely coherent. It had shown that Alfred was quickly improving, and that was a very, very good thing, and so he opened the door with a pep in his step.

Turning to see who had pushed open the door to the infirmary, Matthew was surprised to see that Arthur had shown up, mostly because Alfred was currently...well. Suffering an episode, of sorts. He had been mostly aware the night before and even earlier this morning, according to the doctor, but, of course, something had happened. Maybe Arthur could get to the bottom of it better than he could, but he was exhausted with trying to stop Alfred from hurting himself.

The doctor had told him that they had cleaned out his left eye today, and he had been on intense pain medication for that, and it would take time to leave his system. In the meantime, he was afraid and confused and jumpy, and despite how Matthew was there for him, Alfred suffered other problems and wasn't helped by this. Matthew knew that pain medication was needed; but in a lot of ways this response to it still didn't make sense. Whatever was going on, it didn't make sense.

Alfred was hallucinating and going back and forth between begging, crying and shouting, and Arthur had the unfortunate luck of coming in on one of his shouting moments, Matthew trying in vain to calm him down and keep him in the bed.

Arthur tossed the papers aside in a flurry after a moment of shock and briskly walked over to the bed, seeing the state Alfred was in and making his way over. "Alfred, Alfred love!" His voice was quiet, but urgent, steadying himself and ignoring Matthew in favor of trying to grasp Alfred's left hand. "You're alright love, shhh, shhh…what's wrong?" He whispered, trying to soothe Alfred as the man's eye was dilated so fully that they could not see its blue, and he wondered why someone hadn't come to get him immediately when this had started. Something dark inside him told him that perhaps he shouldn't be leaving Alfred's bedside any longer than he had to.

"He can't hear you." Matthew moaned as he sat backward, Alfred writhing and wriggling out of Arthur's grip, as he shouted against people that simply weren't there, before his efforts tired him out, and his shouts became sobs. "The staff- they said they cleaned out his left eye...and it really hurt, even with the pain medication, and now..." Matthew gestured, helpless to watch as Alfred curled up and cried, his whole body shaking and sobs wracking his chest. It was truly hard to watch. Earlier Matthew had had to bind down his brother's hands because the king had tried to pull out his own hair, just now growing back to how long it used to be. "Well. He's afraid, of something. He's hurt and afraid, and that's a potent combination."

Arthur glanced at Matthew, believing to know full well what was happening with Alfred and turning his attention back to him to help him. He squeezed Alfred's left hand some and gently caressing his cheek. "Alfred love, I'm here, Alfred, look, Alfred, I'm here for you, and you're safe here." He continued, hoping to get through to him, to catch Alfred's attention and help pull him out of the moment. "It's alright my love, please, you're safe."

Matthew sat quietly, watching Arthur try and gather Alfred's attention, however, the man simply looked straight through Arthur, his eyes wild- the left eye opening somewhat better now- and scared, so scared. He shook and struggled away from Arthur, unable to see him but able to feel the foreign hand on his face and screaming in fright, Matthew attempting to help keep him on the bed, Alfred's body taut and then sagging, the man at war with himself over what was going on.

As it was, he was so upset, he was so afraid, his breathing was so fast, that he fainted, his body going limp as his eyes rolled up into his head, Matthew gently stroking his hair as his body finally gave out and he fell into unconsciousness again, his breathing still too fast to be good.

Arthur dropped down into the chair beside the bed, just holding Alfred's hand now and closing his eyes, trembling a little.

He was useless. He wanted to help him, wanted to take the terror from him so he wouldn't have to look that way again.

Good for nothing.

But he just seemed to make it worse. Taking in another deep breath, Arthur looked back up at Alfred's face, passed out from fear. It was, better he supposed than thrashing about in bed...

"Your majesty, Alfred has been like this all day." Matthew tried to console. "He simply...no longer can see anything around him. He couldn't see you much as he couldn't see me." The brother gently tucked Alfred back in bed. "He was already scared- I told them not to clean his eye when he was already scared and hallucinating, but they refused to wait out the medication." Matthew grumbled, petting Alfred's hair. "He'll be okay. He might be a bit jittery, but he'll be okay. He has to be."

"Then I will, have to have a discussion with the doctors about how they administer their care again. He should have been put to sleep before they cleaned his eye. There's no reason he needed to be awake and panicked for it." He said softly, bitterly as he watched Alfred and rubbed his hand lightly.

Matthew agreed sourly, gently stroking Alfred's hair. "A few of them have just been… mean." He muttered. "Alfred's been out of it this whole time, and they aren't letting him take breaks... It's…" Alfred seemed to shift into sleep, his body relaxing and curling up on the blanket Matthew had put over him, and he sighed, exhausted as he lost his train of thought before restarting on a similar note. "And they're treating him like he's absolutely incapable of anything, and I've seen some purposefully scare him today. I don't know what's going on. I don't like it."

Arthur sat up and took a breath, outrage beneath the surface that there was such disrespect for Alfred. "The next time that happens and I am not around Matthew, I want the offender relieved of duty and escorted out of the palace. I do not care who it is. I want them out of the palace and I need to be informed what their place was on the medical staff so I may have them replaced." He wouldn't tolerate it. Alfred was the new King of Spades, and very much a hero to the citizens. He was supposed to be receiving proper medical care. "If you see any of the guards I would like you to inform me. I will replace them with one of the men Alfred served with." Men he was sure would protect the new King, held respect for him.

"No, no, the guards stop it when they see it." Matthew defended. "However, servants and medical staff- they are right asses about it. And while I'd love to be able to do that, they simply can protect each other from myself, and the guards aren't posted inside, meaning, if I'm not around, Alfred is vulnerable. Which is why he was given this pain medication at all..." He stroked Alfred's hair, nervous. "I don't suppose some of them were loyal to your father, were they?"

"Then I will have a guard posted in the room at all times. I won't have him being harmed where he's supposed to be safe." Arthur said, stiffening a little at the accusation of treason in his staff. "I want to know who it is. I will not tolerate it." He said running his hand over Alfred's again. "I will line them in groups and have you point them out if I have too but I will not let Alfred be harmed here."

Matthew agreed, swallowing as he nodded. "Right...he'll be out for a while now, I'd imagine." He finished. "But I won't leave his side, if you want to go do something else...arrange something else, I don't know. But Alfred shouldn't be left alone, particularly when he's vulnerable." Matthew stroked his brother's hair. "And he's not been brought food yet..." He muttered, hungry himself, knowing Alfred needed it more than him.

Arthur nodded and decided he would send out a request to a couple of the men who had come to identify Alfred. He'd arrange for Alfred to have a personal guard. "Matthew, I, I need you to know as well, you're Alfred's brother. Your brother is King now. You highly outrank the servants and staff here. I know what you said before about a hand out but that's not what it is. You and your brother are royalty now. The guards already know this. They will follow your orders unless they directly conflict with mine or Alfred's."

Matthew stroked Alfred's hair. "Yeah, maybe I do, but they know they don't have to listen. Alfred's King, yeah, I'm his brother, but... I dunno."

"And why are you fixated on the hand out?" He asked, irritated. "I was more referring to how Alfred wasn't given his army position because of his status, not anything else..." Matthew rubbed his forehead. "I'll be here."

He sighed a little and straightened his jacket some, hiding frustration with him as he switched topics. "I will return shortly with a meal for the both of you. Is there anything specific you think would be best for Alfred that I can have made?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow at him with curiosity, but didn't care all that much why he avoided it still. Matthew wasn't sure what Arthur's problem was- he had been a slave most of his life. This was a dramatic change- from peasant to noble? He wasn't confident, and so held no authority over the actions of others. "If I were cooking, I would make something like mom would have made…something that's fattening, salty, and warm. Broths are nice, but they're slightly flavored water, honestly. Alfred should be getting something that'll put some fat on his bones as well as taste good..."

Arthur sighed again and watching to pull his hair out. He didn't understand how it was so hard to understand. Then again it was probably a difficult thing to adjust to given the status Matthew and his brother originally came from. So he ignored it. "Right, of course." He said, the words sounding hard and clipped as he turned on his heel. The guards were supposed to listen to Matthew- he held rank now. He wasn't peasantry anymore! But…he supposed it would just take time for him to get used to that. "I will have a meal brought in shortly."

With that, Arthur left the room waiting until he was in the kitchens and requesting the food. Slipping into an empty hall and far from the infirmary Arthur punched the wall once. Which turned into a second punch and then a third. It wasn't enough to reopen the scraps on his knuckles but it helped and he leaned on the wall a moment, just breathing. "I don't know what to do mother..." He whispered softly to himself, pushing off the wall and taking a breath. She'd held such authority, handled everything with such grace before she fell ill.

But he was a mess, like their kingdom- like their King.

Arthur quickly made his way back to the kitchens since he refused to wallow when Alfred was so obviously suffering. He personally walked with the staff to take the meal to Alfred's room, knocking lightly before opening the door and having the meal brought in.

Matthew had Alfred awake, and admittedly, though Alfred was mildly responsive, he wasn't there. "He's up." Matthew said, telling them in a soft voice, trying to alert them to be quiet as they could be. Alfred was awake, and calm only because he hadn't been startled by anything. Matthew still had no idea what the fuck they gave him, but it seemed to have put him through the goddamned ringer, his eyes sunken and skin pallor from the vomit from earlier.

"Are you going to dine with us?" Matthew asked, trying to be polite even though it seemed that Arthur just didn't like him, with Alfred secure in his arms.

"If the both of you would have me here." Arthur answered softly after a moment to ensure the food was set out. He sent the servants away after they were finished, shutting the door softly behind them. "How is he?" The Queen somehow felt like he was intruding in his own medical wing, like he was an outsider and had no real reason to be there with them.

"I don't know." Matthew admitted. "He's awake...but." He shrugged, sighing helplessly. "I'm sure he would like you around, plus, it'll make it easier to get everything done with an extra set of hands." He tried to feed him, but Alfred simply wouldn't swallow, the food dribbling right back out of his mouth. "Fuck…I don't know what they gave him..." Matthew whispered to himself, upset and angry as he wiped Alfred's mouth off.

Arthur walked over, staying where Alfred would be able to see him as he sat on the bed beside the two of them. "Alfred, love?" He asked, resting a hand lightly on his thigh and watched his face, trying to see a response. "Alfred, you should eat something-I had it made special at your brothers request." He said with a smile.

But his blue eyes remained distant, his head drooping forward. "Fuck!" Matthew eventually cried out in frustration, and the more alarming thing was that Alfred didn't startle, even then. "He's not eating!"

And that was truly the really worrying piece- that Alfred simply wasn't responding...to anything. Not to Matthew, the food, or Arthur. Matthew tested this theory by suddenly shaking him, Alfred simply going limp as Arthur put his hands over him to force him to stop before he injured Alfred, before he took his king into his arms as Matthew raged. "Fuck! They gave him something, Arthur! I don't know what, but... even when he's out of it, he's always responded to food, and loud noises!"

Arthur, unsure of how to answer, laid Alfred back against the pillow and checked his pulse. "Who gave him something Matthew? Who administered his last dose of medicine?" He asked, frowning heavily.

"I don't know! I had to talk to the doctor about his past spectacles and eye examinations, and I come in and they've given him something that made him scream in pain!" He growled in frustration. "He was very upset, and he started to blubber something but he couldn't form the words, and that was when I buckled down here to watch him!" Alfred's heart was beating, though admittedly slowly, as was his breathing. "I don't know what they gave him, but it's like they're trying to make it seem worse than it is- like they're trying to set back his progress!"

As Arthur thought on that theory...it admittedly had merit. Alfred was king- he was popularly liked, and he was known as a radical thinker, even if that wasn't necessarily true. He was also a rag card, now the King. It would make sense if he had enemies in the aristocracy, who wanted their new king to be held in a new prison if they couldn't legally keep him in the northern torture chamber he had been in before. If Alfred didn't ever get better, then he could never rule, now could he?

Or was it something else?

Arthur sighed, wishing this were easier. It didn't make any sense to him. The Kingdom was already in shambles from his fathers war, people crippling them more by doing this to the new king... They may as well hand the Kingdom over to the others.

"Matthew please calm down, tell the guard outside to fetch our Jack please." He said, not looking up from Alfred. The drugs would wear off as long as it wasn't a poison. He'd ask King Francis if he could borrow one of his doctors- someone unbiased from outside the kingdom that was an ally. Maybe he would move Alfred to the King's chambers and not allow anyone but himself, Matthew or Yao into his room until Alfred was well again.

Matthew agreed, though he was upset. Alfred was his brother- he hadn't deserved any of this to happen to him, not the torture, and not this. Alfred's blue eyes were glazed over, and distant and empty and his body was completely limp and lifeless. Matthew left the room briefly to talk to the guards, and then immediately went back to his brother's side, pulling him into his arms from where Arthur had been sitting next to him. "We-we should move him from here- and not tell people where we're keeping him." He said, trying to resolve this issue quickly.

Arthur took a deep breath and held onto Alfred's hand. "Yes, I was just thinking that and we shall as soon as Yao comes. I feel this is a good time to ask his advice on the matter and see what our options are." He told him. "I'm already planning to ask for assistance from King Francis as well we will get this handled. If I have to take him to another Kingdom to nurse him to health so help me god I will."

Matthew nodded; Alfred's limp body in his arms was different than the last time he had done this. Then, he had known Alfred was simply asleep. He had been happy to see them, and amicable to waking up to do things. Alfred was now, just flat-out unconscious and had been having various hallucinations and panic attacks. He was upset because Alfred was looking worse than he had when he had gotten here. He was supposed to be getting better, not worse...

However, the Jack walked in on their silence, breaking it with a raised brow. "My, our King looks worse for wear. You called me, Arthur?"

Arthur turned to him and nodded. "Matthew tells me there are staff who are making Alfred's recovery worse. Now he seems drugged and is unresponsive. I need to know how we can fix this. We can't very well rebuild the kingdom if it's King isn't allowed to recover."

Yao looked worriedly at Alfred. "Then we shall move him. The kings quarters would be an obvious place, if there are individuals out for him." He nodded, decisive. "We shall put him in a separate hall, and keep all entrances to this area of the castle blocked by guards we know are his friends and allies. Then, we will keep on hand a very short staff, and we will know the names of everyone going in and out, and most of all- the names of those who come into contact with Alfred. I take treason seriously, unlike the last Jack who served here. Putting our King into this state is putting the kingdom into danger."

Yao then softened as he looked to Alfred's prone form. "In the meantime, I will make a potion for this that will hopefully help our king get his wits about him. I was a doctor before I was a Jack. We will move him tonight- once we have the servants asleep and the castle is cleared of potential wandering eyes."

Matthew held Alfred tighter, and agreed, before looking to Arthur for his thoughts.

Arthur nodded; relieved to have him, At least he could rely on his own royal court, right? He squeezed Alfred's hand lightly and managed to relax a little. "I will send word to King Francis, and have him send a doctor to us that can help Alfred as well. I spent a good deal of time there to avoid being here for a time and he is a very reliable man." He bit his lip a moment before nodding. It was a plan then. It would be alright.

Yao agreed, walking off to go make the antidote, instructing the guards to only let Arthur, Matthew, Alfred, and himself in and out of this room for the time being.

Matthew sighed, lying down on the bed and wiping Alfred's face of the drool coming down his chin. "They were so cruel, he can't even eat...he needs to eat, and be able to move and think." He murmured to himself, letting Alfred lay against him. "Go do as you must- I'll wait for the Jack to return for Alfred with whatever potion he is concocting..."

Arthur nodded. "I'll send the letter to the men who came to see him before as well as King Francis." He reached over and brushed Alfred's hair from his face. "I'll return shortly." He added, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. When he reached his office Arthur sighed and gathered what he needed, calling for a servant to carry his things. He took what he needed back to Alfred's room, having the servant wait outside and he set up the papers, ink and such on the small table in the room. He wanted to be near Alfred.

Matthew was surprised, but welcomed the intrusion- it would be easier to keep an eye on Alfred with another person in the room, one he knew Alfred trusted. He waited, his brother heavy in his arms and bags under his eyes.

The Jack came back in soon, putting something that smelled terrible beneath Alfred's nose. At first, nothing happened, but then the King jerked back to life with a gasp, shaking horribly as his gaze snapped back to attention.

He tried to get away from Matthew, breathing harshly. "F-fuck...!" Alfred shouted, unable to stop shaking, and Matthew allowed the man to get up, which he did, getting to his feet and staggering away from them, his hand using the wall as support as he tried gathered himself. "Fuck…" Matthew stood; ready to support Alfred as needed, but also looking to Arthur to see about what the Queen would do.

Arthur jolted as soon as Alfred was on his feet. He set the quill down and was on his own feet a moment later. "Alfred?" He asked, walking a bit closer to him, keeping just enough distance Alfred could move freely but close enough he would be able to catch him if he needed to be held up.

Alfred's eyes snapped to him, and that's when Arthur saw it- both eyes opened, looking at him. Alfred was disoriented, and afraid. "Arthur...?" He mumbled with uncertainty, staggering again, his grip on the wall slipping forward a bit as he fell forward slightly. "Wwhas' happenn..." He slurred, confused, staring at Arthur, trying to focus on him but failing.

Arthur stepped forward, ready to catch him. "You're in the infirmary Alfred." He said gently, reaching out to hold his left side but trying to stay where he could be seen. "Come with me and sit down for a moment, love. I'll get you something to drink." He said, hoping Alfred would let him lead him to the chair so he could sit down. "You're alright, you're safe, remember?"

Alfred watched him, and looked at his hand, afraid, uncertain, before trying to lift his left arm and finding it simply not cooperating. So, he grabbed Arthur's hand instead with his right, staggering but staying on his feet. Arthur's words sounded strange, but everything was off kilter so it was hard to find out why.

He blinked furiously, his breathing hitching. "A-ah..." He breathed, letting Arthur do just that and collapsing in the chair, not really hearing what he was saying. He did hear Arthur trying to say he was safe, and he-he wasn't...he was now but not when he was alone...! His breathing picked up in response to his internal panic. Something was wrong! What happened? Something had happened!

Arthur helped him sit down; noting how Alfred's left arm wasn't responding again and bit his lip. "Alfred love, look at me. You're alright, you're not alone. We're here with you. Matthew and myself." he said gently, kneeling in front of him and squeezing his hand gently. "And Yao, he's a good man, and our Jack. We're here, you're alright. Just focus on me love I've got you remember?"

Alfred looked at him, and tried to focus on what he was saying. He nodded as Arthur asked him if he remembered, squeezing Arthur's hand back, his shaking slowly coming to a stop as he relaxed into the chair, breathing slowly becoming steady as he took stock of those around him. His blue eyes were tired, and his head lolled forward, before he jerked it back up to keep looking at Arthur. "Ah...Arthur..." He mumbled, a slight tremor running through him, his grip on his queen firm as he pleaded with his eyes. "I's no' safe...not safe…ahhh…"

Matthew watched, making sure Alfred was getting what he needed from Arthur before he stepped in, and Yao handed the paste to Matthew, so in case this happened again he had the solution on hand.

"I'm here, Alfred, I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here. It's safe, my dear." He murmured when Alfred jerked and said his name again. "I've got you love." He smiled and rubbed his arm. He looked to Yao and Matthew. "Would you bring me a glass of water?" He asked them before turning his attention back to Alfred. He needed to eat but Arthur needed to make sure he was calm before they tried. The water would hopefully help him wake up.

"Whatever they gave him is still in his system." The Jack reminded. "All I did with the medication was force his body out of unconsciousness, but his actual ability to understand and react appropriately is probably severely impacted." He did, however, go get him water and food, the meal from earlier having gone stale. Matthew followed him, the having cleaned it up and now taking it out of the room to give them privacy.

Alfred smiled weakly back, mimicking Arthur's look automatically, his head dipping forward again since he lacked much of his muscle control- and his head was very weak already. It landed against Arthur's shoulder, and he leaned forward. Something was itching inside of him, a warning from when he had fallen asleep just on the tip of his tongue.

Arthur nodded and ran his fingers through Alfred's hair. It was almost like starting from the beginning but Alfred remembered enough it seemed. As they took care of the stale meal and everything Arthur kept his attention on Alfred. "That's it love, we're going to take you somewhere safe and you'll recover in no time." He said softly, kissing his forehead and smiling. "I'm here."

Well. Alfred hadn't been as...amicable to Arthur at the beginning, and that was somewhat putting it lightly... He was also not bleeding everywhere, another bonus. Yao came back in first, Matthew right behind him, carrying the new food. Yao handed the glass to Arthur, and then stepped back, letting Arthur do as he felt was best for their king. Matthew came over as well, suggesting that they put Alfred back onto the bed before feeding him.

"Ahh..." Alfred murmured, his mind foggy, forcing his head up to look at Matthew and Yao, before looking back to Arthur. "Bad happennes..." Alfred slurred again, still trying to convey that something awful was going on (though he couldn't remember what!), but Arthur shook his head, hushing Alfred.

Arthur took the glass and looked back at Alfred. "Someone gave you something they weren't supposed too, but Yao's made something to counter it a little and it should be out of your system soon." He told him, thinking that was what he wanted to know since he seemed mostly with them even if he mostly wasn't at the same time. "Here, drink this for me love." He said putting the glass to his lips but not tipping it until Alfred seemed willing to drink the water. He wanted him to drink something before they moved him to the bed again.

Alfred nodded, and agreed tentatively, nodding to show he was thirsty as well. He finished the glass easily, and his head tilted forward once more. He growled a bit, in frustration, but rested it on Arthur's shoulder once again.

"Alright..." Matthew spoke up. "Back onto the bed, bro." He smiled reassuringly at Alfred even as tears dripped down Alfred's face, and the king shook his head when he looked at Matthew.

The younger brother scooped Alfred up out of the chair, letting Arthur keep his grip on his hand, before setting him back down in the bed, and tucking him in, putting the stand over him so that the food was in front of him. His pillows were placed so that he was leaning back while sitting up- a considerably more comfortable position than the chair. "Do you want to feed him, Arthur?" Matthew offered him his spot.

Arthur let Matthew carry Alfred to the bed and stayed close so he wouldn't have to let go of Alfred's hand. He was relieved that Alfred finished the water and helped make him comfortable on the bed before sitting beside him. He nodded when Matthew asked if he wanted to feed Alfred and started to do just that. "There we are love." He praised softly as Alfred finally ate.

Alfred was very much hungry, and so ate quickly, eagerly. The warning fell into the recesses of his tired, aching mind. The Jack, feeling his work here was done, left the room, going to make preparations for that night, telling Matthew to remind Arthur he had work as well, particularly with the King so sick. Matthew sat with him as well, holding Alfred's hand and squeezing it now and again, reassuringly.

Once Alfred had finished his meal, Matthew relayed the message, and pet Alfred's hair to keep him calm and draw his attention from Arthur.

Arthur fed Alfred and when he was done he nodded to Matthew. Once Alfred's attention was on Matthew, Arthur went back to his work across the room. He finished up the letters he needed to write and sealed them. "I'm going to have these sent out and be back as soon as I can." He said with a soft smile.

A few hours had passed at that point, and Alfred had slept through a lot of it. However, as Arthur spoke, his eyes opened, and he agreed, before closing them again. "Alright, Arthur." Matthew said, quiet. "We'll be here. Any news of how the outside has reacted to the news release yet...?" He asked, curious about that.

"I don't know yet but I'll look into it while I'm out there as well and let you know." He said with a nod and left the room. He handed off the letters to be delivered and asked about information on how the people were taking the news of the interview Alfred had given.

There was talk of it, the Jack informed him, the people who had seen Alfred had confirmed it and so the masses accepted it as a true story. They were curious, but sad that he- a hero- was damaged like this. There was anger in there too. Alfred had been falsely accused by the crown before him, and he had suffered for it. However, there was a sense of wanting to see what Alfred would do as King before the people acted on anything.

Said King was with Matthew, his brother feeding the man another small meal and water, keeping him busy and out of harms way, hopefully. Afterwards, since the two were alone, Matthew gently stroked his brother's hair, and sung him mom's lullabies, hoping that soon, this would wear off and leave him a bit more like himself.

Arthur came back as soon as he could, stepping into and shutting the door behind him. "I've sent out word to the men he served with and all there is now is to wait for their answers. The interview we allowed has put the people mostly at ease thankfully." He said, walking over to sit on the other side of Alfred and rested his hand over Alfred's. "They're waiting to see how he is as King though. I'm sure once Alfred is on his feet again we'll be alright..." The people needed their king.

Matthew nodded, leaving Alfred to look up at Arthur, his expression showing how his mind was fogged over at the moment. Blue eyes watched him blankly, until Alfred smiled a bit, seeming to recognize it was Arthur again. His hand turned over to gently grip his hand once more. "Hi...Arthur..." He murmured, blinking sleepily as he watched him. "I'm glad you think that of me..." He said, slowly but firmly. He was happy that Arthur had come back... And he seemed to be more present than earlier, his speech certainly more clear.

He chuckled a little and squeezed his hand. "Yes, I've a lot of faith in you my King." He said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "You'll be on your feet in no time." Arthur added, smiling warmly at him and brushing his hair from his face. "Especially with Yao, myself, and Matthew at your side."

Alfred nodded, closing his eyes briefly as Arthur kissed his forehead, and again when Arthur was pushing his hair out of his eyes. He looked at him again, before the range of sight he had at the moment confused him. "Ah...why...?" He asked, putting his right hand over into the area that he had come to know as his "blind spot" and finding his vision was suddenly much, much better. "I can see...over there?" He murmured, his thoughts being dragged away from Arthur, becoming preoccupied.

Matthew sighed. "Alright. Alright. So- we're moving him tonight, yes?" He asked, anxious. "I want to know where, and how we're pulling that off..."

Arthur smiled as Alfred noticed and could see out of his left now. That was good- he was steadily improving despite the sabotage. "Yao is handling the preparations now but it will be this evening when everyone is asleep. We're clearing the west wing now, it hasn't been used since my mother died and is easily guarded. I've assigned several guards to the duty of keeping everyone but the select few out. They're good men who helped me a great deal during the time my father was alive. It'll be over and done. And then-"

"And then nothing, dear Queen." An unfortunately familiar voice rung clear in the room, and Alfred's pupils shrank in fear.

"No." He whispered, and everyone froze as the guards with them turned on them, drawing their swords and holding them all at sword point.

"This is treason!" Arthur shouted to his men in vain, before he was hit on the back of his head with the hilt of a sword, and knocked unconscious. The man came into the light. Alfred only vaguely recognized it. It had been a noble who had 'fought' in the war. The word fought was meant only sarcastically because although he had held rank, he had never spent a day on the battlefield.

"Naughty rag cards." He tutted disapprovingly, smiling at them with sickly sweetness. "Time to be discarded." Alfred's body screamed against this even though his voice could not follow this feeling.

"You're the one who poisoned Alfred." Matthew stared at him defensively, hand in front of his brother in an unconscious move to protect him. "It was you! He's your King, why on earth-!?"

The noble shot Matthew in the foot, causing him to shout and fall to the floor, and Alfred to stare in panic. He had only one family member left!

Panic and chaos ensued around him- the Jack had called in other soldiers, Matthew being taken by the men that had come with the noble that he had once called Sir Monster along with Arthur, but Alfred himself was pushed back, the Jack ordering that one of the men who had run in at Arthur's scream of treason grab him and run.

Alfred stared helplessly as his brother and his Queen were taken from him, their bodies limp- heh, it reminded him all to well of the dreams he had of their deaths at the old King's hands. Now they would be at his hands, wouldn't they.

The Knight dropped Alfred in the stables, ordering the king to run, run as far away as he could, before he left Alfred among the horses, where he had once tried to run away, in vain.

Wouldn't it be in vain to try again?

He didn't know how long he sat their, his body too weak to stand any longer and get on the back of the horse.

"My King?" A young voice broke the silence of his own mind; Alfred looked up to see a child staring at him with eyes full of wonder- wonder that Alfred had long since lost. He smiled back out of habit.

"You should leave the castle now, my child." Alfred warned in a shaky voice. "It has been taken over from the inside. I was left here to run, but I cannot."

"The aristocracy?" The word came from an older stable boy, this one a teenager. "Are they behind this?"

Alfred nodded, looking down as he explained. "I am a rag card, you see…or I was, before this tattoo formed on me. The man that our Queen Arthur had been intended for by his father is behind this plot- he plans to discard me, for I am a rag card. Arthur has been taken, along with my brother. But my legs are too weak…"

The teenage one spoke to the boy, and the boy ran as the teen gripped Alfred, surprising him as he was lifted. "We are rag cards also, my King."

"Call me Alfred." He murmured. "Titles are too formal."

The teen nodded. "Fine, Alfred. Tim is getting help. We're getting you out of here- you're the one true King, and the aristocracy has been trying to undermine you out here for ages… there have been rumors of them planning a coup, and I suppose this is it."

"I am a danger to you." Alfred stared at him, blue eyes pained. "I cannot fight right now, I cannot protect myself, let alone you or the boy."

The teen grinned from ear to ear. "My parents died fighting for your freedom when the old king imprisoned you, Alfred- I will gladly take up their sword for you, my King. The Aristocracy are those who killed them and I will not let them kill you as well."

He stared, his body giving out against the teen as he was surrounded by others working in the gardens and stable, preparing to risk their lives for this man, their king, to bring him away from the castle and fight in his stead for the chance of a better life.

He was the true King. He knew that now, as the rag cards in the castles employees stabilized his unsteady, sickly form, and covered him with a cloak and set him on a horse to flee and live to fight another day.

Arthur, and his brother, and everyone else needed him to be strong. He needed to be strong for himself.

The teen nodded as he mounted the horse and steadied Alfred's form. "My name is Michael, sir." Alfred whispered the name once again, staring at the mane and gripping his freedom in his hands.

He had a sudden flashback to having his hands chained down to the ground with metal chains, the distant, foreign sounds of his own pained screaming, the ice and chill, it rushed back to him- threatened to drag him under the surface of consciousness, but Alfred wouldn't let it overtake him. He would be strong for this teen, for his people.

"If we make it through this, I will have to knight you, dear Michael."

He was strong. His hands gripped the mane of the horse as his head dipped forward, but he lifted it up again, and took a deep breath in and out. He would be strong this time. He the horse responded to his command to ride forward, to escape and come back stronger.

Alfred couldn't fail them all again, not again.

He wouldn't allow it.


End file.
